


Halloween Challenge 2012

by Xobit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 52,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I fell over the 30 monsters challenge... in the none girlyfied form, and decided it would be the perfect Halloween thing to do</p><p><strike>Rating may go up as other parts are posted, in fact... I know it will.</strike> Jep, rating just took a major leap ^^;</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harpy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Harpy. 
> 
> Now harpies are usually woman, usually ugly and usually the antagonist or the tool of vengeance. 
> 
> However the very first harpies were beautiful bird woman, much like the sirens and were known not for acts of vengeance but for stealing stuff. (wiki http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harpy)

The harpy eagle settled down on one of the crystal trees heavy branches. He had come a long way for this rumor; he hoped it was not a wasted trip. Shaking his wings out, he transformed his arms free and settled the broad feathered expanses along his back as he crouched down. 

His hunt had taken him this far, now patience had to take over; Hadeen would set in just a few joor. 

For a moment he just sat there, surveying the area before the crystal tree he had chosen to settle in. The lake in the middle of the clearing had the sheen of energon and was as round as one of the moons when full, the stream that ran from the lake and into the crystal tree forest curved around the lake like it was the second moon near dark optic. It was beautiful, and looked utterly undisturbed… 

Unlived by. 

He reached in between the metallic feathers covering his neck joint and pulled out a small medallion, a hard tug easily pulling the magnetic lock free so he could look at it. It opened with the flick of a claw tip and showed him the same image as always. 

A map, only this time instead of showing a small arrow of light it showed this place as seen from above. 

If Swindle had not cheated him he was in the right place. The little harpy hawk had better not be cheating him though, or he would learn the wrath of a harpy eagle and the harpy flock he commanded! 

A flock the harpy hawk was nominally a part of. 

But there was no accounting for greed and Swindle was a greedy little harpy, indeed. He had horrible manners for a harpy and was prone to stealing anything that caught his big purple optics. Just as prone to sell the item again… if you had something he wanted. 

This little medallion though… Megatron had had to steal this himself. But the treasure it represented made it worthwhile… all of it. If it had not he would not have risked stealing from a wizard. 

Those greedy beings that wanted nothing more than to catch every last magical being in the world and rip them apart to use them in foul smelling potions. 

Swindle had sworn that this thing would work for a harpy where it had not worked for the wizard. And he had been right insofar as it having guided Megatron to this, admittedly enchanting, place. 

Patience… 

He shifted on the branch, leaning against the thick trunk of the crystal tree. He had to wait, he might as well rest.

* * *

“Who is it?” the voice was unfamiliar, the _voices_ were unfamiliar. Lighter and less rough than he was used to. Opening his optics he found himself staring directly into a large pair of sea green optics, nearly round and very close. He gave a warning screech and the harpy that owned them scrambled away with a startled squawk. 

It was a harpy… the smallest one he had ever seen. And not looking like any he had ever seen. Very slim, very small and sleek. But he did not get to observe it for long before another harpy placed itself between it and him, hissing warningly with his black and gold wings mantled. Off limits… 

He would respect that and did so, bowing his feather crested helmet in acceptance. 

“I am Megatron, I have traveled far… could you tell me if I have reached the Two Moons harpy clan?” The harpy owl clan. The question was simple enough, innocuous enough. Or at least he hoped so… it had to have been some time since any other harpy found their way here. 

“You have,” replied another voice. It bore the signs of age, cracking and screechy in a manner quite unlike his own sharp vocals. It still held the hints of old though, a depth and expressiveness you seldom heard. Megatron turned to look toward its origin and found that the harpy it belonged to was large, though not his size entirely. His feathers and armor were dusty blue and creamy white with patches of light charcoal. 

“I am Ultra Magnus, flock leader of this clan.” That made Megatron’s optical ridges rise in surprise. No old bird would be allowed to lead the eagle or hawk clans. They needed speed and brawn in their leaders. Of course they respected their elders but… to be led by them? 

“I am honored,” he bowed a little awkwardly, finding it wisest to show respect of their customs however strange they seemed. 

“Will you join us for first meal?” He nodded and soon enough found himself the center of attention as the small, painfully small, clan settled on the shore of the small circular lake to fuel. Again he was surprised when, instead of prey, small containers were passed out containing the energon rich water from the lake.

He watched them as he refueled, and let them watch him. 

There was as great a variety of color in them as in his own flock, but these mechs mostly shared the same large optics, the same wing configuration and feather shape. Some were very bulky but most were slim with the ability to puff out their feathers to an astonishing degree. 

Take the small thing that had startled him so, for example. He was as slim as they came but right now, nestled close to what had to be his Creators, he was so puffed up he looked like a small feathered ball!

But as he watched he began to note one harpy among the many. He was a quiet one, maybe that was why? Or maybe it was the weariness in his large blue optics? No, he did not know but he had to admit to himself that it might well in part be that he was a gorgeous harpy. 

Coloration bright red and blue, with pretty black, silver and creamy white accents… he had not seen him stand up yet or unfurl his wings, but he could imagine how those colors would continue down his chassis… on the underside of the undoubtedly magnificent wing span. 

“He is a fine young harpy,” the comment took Megatron by surprise and he turned his helmet quickly to fix a stare to the old flock leader. The reaction earned him an indulgent laugh. 

“I remember why harpies would come here in my youth… some stayed for a while, gave us new codes before deciding on one and then taking their leave,” he paused, shaking his helmet as his optics grew dim with memories, “then the wizards came and everything changed… the amulets kept us safe, but the suitors stopped coming, little by little we became isolated… few eggs laid. Well, you know how it goes when it comes to that.”

Megatron nodded reluctantly. He could have told the mech that this flock was not the only one suffering this fate… but what would it matter? He had come for new coding, for a mate not of his near kin. 

“I am very old, Megatron… flock leader,” another sharp glance and another dry indulgent laugh, “I know, I know… it is not polite. However, I have a request for you, leader to leader,” Megatron’s dermas thinned and he thought it over, briefly. 

“What is the request?” he kept his tone cool, not wanting to promise what he could not give away. 

“Take them, take them all… bring them away from here,” came the request after the briefest of pauses. That shocked him enough that he had to fight the need to mantle his wings high. And he certainly had no ready answer. 

A blunt claw under his chin made him finally close his mouth again. 

“I mean it, I am old… my vorn have been counted, I have maybe a season left… maybe not.” The old flock leader shook his helmet. “They need to get away, to meet new beings, to find mates. This place was our sanctuary… Take them away so that it does not become our tomb.”

“And that is your price? The mate price?” He clarified, still uncertain. 

The old harpy owl laughed heartily, several of his subordinates looking to him and flapping their wings in clear approval of hearing the sound. 

“Call it the mate price, if you will… but since you are asking I take it you have a potential in sight?” the old harpy wheezed once and made a dismissive gesture with his bluntly clawed hand, “No, no, do not tell me, just promise me you will take them away!”

“…” Bring the harpy owl clan from out of myth and into the light? Megatron struggled with his emotions, with the danger for this sheltered clan. Triumph won out though none of the other emotions disappeared. 

“I will if they will come; it is hardly a price at all to bring the Two Moons clan into the world again. I will protect them as if they had hatched from my own eggs,” he swore the oath, not lightly, but spark felt. 

“Not all of them I hope, one is enough for you to protect like a mate,” the laughter was there again, hearty and warm.

Megatron did not mind his mirth too much… he was right after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making this into TFs was surprisingly hard and other than a few references there is not much of ‘real’ harpies in this story, but meh I had fun… You are all going to hate me though :XD: 
> 
> Ironically my inspiration came from this http://z-karmacage.deviantart.com/art/Lukas-Owl-Harpy-308361333, and the person drawing it? Well, she draws some awesome mechs too and is into TFP :XD: I can recommend a look though her gallery, I took myself a long tour today! 
> 
> And just for fun, this is the birdie species I see the different Harpies mentioned as;   
> Megatron http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harpy_Eagle  
> Ultra Magnus http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eurasian_Eagle-Owl  
> Bumblebee http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elf_Owl
> 
> (No I never did decide on a species for protective Creator Prowl or lovely smexy Harpy Optimus ;))
> 
> Beta by Rocklight-Tippers
> 
> Story is a ONE SHOT dabble challenge response!


	2. Centaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable fate of one species of beings has an unexpected impact on the course of another species’ choices...

Occasionally, a visit to another world resulted in alternate shapes that baffled Cybertronians. 

This was one such world. 

The technology was made to mimic natural life, but with a twist. Almost everything was a blend of different forms of natural life. Their flying machines were a mix of feline and avialae, or equidae and avialae, or even more fantastical things. Their ground vehicles were… well, they came in all shapes and sizes and Optimus was not sure he was happy with the form he had chosen.

It was uncomfortable to have his torso untransformed for the most part, to have his face plates so… so on _display_! And having four legs instead of a number of wheels was disorienting. Without a doubt it was one of the most beautiful forms he had ever taken, the aesthetics of these beings were exquisite, but he had four legs and a tail! 

Not to mention a pair of arms and a head for all to see. Disconcerting was not the word! 

Stamping one rounded back pede he huffed, optics growing distant as he could not help but wonder what shapes the Decepticons had taken. There were many terrifying ones, but there were also many beautiful ones… 

When would they see? 

Half a rotation cycle on this strange world of Elysion and they had not even seen a wingtip of a seeker. 

Had they left? 

They might well have, Elysion was an energy rich world but the Elysians were few, the world almost entirely mechanical. A dying race trying to leave behind beauty. It was sad really, but they could not help the little organi~

“You seem contemplative, Prime,” he stiffened, thoughts interrupted by a voice he had not head in some time. What halted his initial reaction of spinning to ready for a fight was the… softness, of the tone used. 

“I am,” he saw no reason to deny it. There was something about the quiet, dignified, slow dying out of the Elysian species that spoke to him. Admiration for them facing the inevitable with such honor and ingenuity. This world would keep going when they were gone, a work of art that he did not want to destroy or take part in destroying. 

“Optimus…” he shivered at the feel of a hand on his quadruped back, a brush of something hard but flexible against his flank. 

“What is it you want, Megatron?” he was tired; the last thing he wanted was a fight here. On this world, this world that went so quietly to its end. Unlike themselves, who were slowly but surely warring themselves into extinction. 

“An end…” Megatron sounded tired too, wary of what response he might get perhaps. Or wary that he might think that this was an assassination attempt, it could well be that it was but he was not inclined to believe it. 

“To me? To the war? To you?” his tone was a little bitter, but the question was valid enough. He shivered again as the hand stroked forwards until it reached where his torso connected to the equidae like quadruped lower chassis. One of his rounded front pedes scraped restlessly at the earth. 

He could not control all of what this chassis did. The swish of the thin tail with the clump of feeling wires at the end… his pede hoofs stamping and scraping at the dirt. Elysian vehicles where made to mimic in shape and in manner. 

The silence dragged on, potent… thick… 

“The war would be preferable,” it sounded like it hurt him to say it. That made Optimus smile, a thin lost one devoid of joy. 

“Can we?” that was what he was most afraid of, that they had forgotten how to be at peace. That they had forgotten that they were all Cybertroians… all that was left of Cybertron.

A hand came into view, clawed and scarred, a hand that had torn though his plating on more than a few occasions. Now it was shown relaxed, palm up… offering. 

The hand on his back moved up his mech torso, claw tips gently exploring rather than posing deadly danger. 

It was like seduction, it could be murder. The hand came to a rest on the back of his neck joint and he truly expected the claws to be curled in, the hand to rip away. 

It did not happen. 

The offer hovered before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Centaur: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centaur
> 
> Gregarious use of Latin and Greek... mangling of same...
> 
> Beta by AKzeal


	3. Slime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So yes… how do you manage Megatron/Optimus and the prompt Slime? Apparently with a trip to the spa and the idea that the Blob would be awesome at removing organic taints from the Cybertronian bodywork…

It was good to be off that dirt ball planet! 

Megatron leaned back, allowing the soft temper-foam of the oil tub to cradle his chassis. Clean… completely free of dust and other unmentionable debris. Even if it was only for a while he would enjoy this… 

He had barely begun to relax when the door to the spa room slid open, sitting bolt upright he snarled at the little bath attendant who looked at him with wide optics and a very confused expression. The small none-transformer carried a large container with a faintly glowing angry pink fluid. 

“What are you doing here!” it was not really a question, well, it was but it came out as an accusation. And was one, he had almost been relaxing for the first time in more orn than he cared to count!

“I am sorry, sir, but you requested the full cleaning, sir… complete with removal of all organic residue,” the little servant, slave, was about the size of Soundwave’s little half drones. But he seemed determined, if not entirely happy, to do his job. And he was also speaking the truth, he had ordered the full cleaning… the so called luxury packet. 

“Hmm, very well then, but I will want a good long soak when you have done whatever you are going to do,” it was with great reluctance that he gave the small mechling permission to continue. 

“Of course, sir, this will but take a moment and then I will leave for you to enjoy the oil bath,” stepping forward he set his oversized burden on the floor, unlatched the lid and tipped the angry pink liquid into the tub. 

Megatron looked on suspiciously, but nothing happened. The glop of fluid disappeared completely into the golden hued oil and he relaxed marginally as the little mechling packed up the empty cylinder and left. As soon as the mechling was gone and the door lock had clicked he relaxed fully, settling back into the padding temper-foam again. 

Ahh… this was the life! No army to worry over, no Autobots to barge in… No Optimus to disturb his every thought. Just on occasion it was nice to get away from it all and~

Megatron sat bold upright again looking intently down into the hazy depths of the hot oil. 

After a few moments he relaxed back once again, it had probably been nothing… he was just stressed out and paranoid. 

And it was all that damn Prime’s fault! 

Sentinel Prime had been a stuffy old fool. Nova Prime had been… good looking, but a terrible bore. Figured that when he finally met a Prime with the right sort of processor he had already started the war and been proclaimed monster of the vorn. He had not known until some time had gone by that he had actually managed to kill Nova at the time and the knowledge had been kept surprisingly tightly under wraps. 

So had the knowledge of the gorgeous young Prime that had been chosen by the Matrix to take his place. 

Primus, when he had spotted that hot little number across the battle field his spike had done its very best to salute him right then and there. Of course the mech had been bent over one of his faction mates at the time, using his own, heavily armored, chassis to protect the little yellow thing from seeker strafing fire. 

That aft had been perfect... each globe like a perfect handful just calling for him to smack them till they glo~

This time he shot up, standing in the tub and looking into the hot fluid suspiciously. Something was in there, it had touched his plating. Not an unpleasant sort of touch but certainly startling, considering he was supposed to be alone in the tub. 

Deliberating for a moment he kneeled down and felt around. It took him only a moment to find the culprit and when he lifted it up above the oil he found himself with a small handful of angry pink... slime? 

The glop promptly flattened out and surrounded his hand sinking its mass into his seams and... 

"Ohh..." his vents hitched at a sudden diffuse wave of pleasure and he stared at the creature in surprise. It undulated, quivered and then he saw little spots appear inside it. Lifting it closer to his face plates he inspected it, realizing after a moment that it was removing debris from his seams.

Full cleaning huh? Well... 

Slowly settling back down he watched the slime thing for a few moments longer but when nothing started to hurt or feel anything but slightly pleasurable he let it be. It was a novel sensation as it slowly moved through every seam and inner working of his hand, before starting a slow crawl up his arm. 

After a while he relaxed fully again and returned his thoughts to the previous topic. 

Optimus Prime's gorgeously spankable aft. 

The things he wanted to do to that aft... and the valve hidden between those lovely thighs... Maybe he should be swearing to Unicron instead of Primus. Unicron had been the god of carnal delights as well as offlining and chaos after all. Primus was more the protector of love and purity. 

His fantasies about the Prime were not pure nor did they contain much love. 

Now, dreams were another matter but right now he did not feel like dreaming, fantasizing would do the trick quite nicely. 

Unicron! If he ever got the chance he was going to cuff the delectable little Prime, lay him out over his thighs and work that aft over with his hands. Possibly with a paddle... Yes, a paddle would be better, a nice heavy mesh one, that wouldn't cut all that unblemished smoothly silver white plating. 

"Uhh..." the glop had reached his shoulder and its slow progress left a tingling charge behind, a feeling of being completely clean. Nice, very, very nice... 

Mhmm, yes, work it over with a paddle and then make the smaller mech straddle him. If he was good and had opened his panel he might even let him nibble on his neck a little, he did so... uh, just like that... yeah, the slime things touch on his neck cables did rather feel like a dozen or so mouths playing with him. He'd just pretend it was that one mouth that one set of plump dermas. 

As the glop did its slow work and his thoughts became more and more heated, along with his chassis, he thought up several new lewd things he would like to try on the young Prime. 

Toys... oh yes, those plump dermas would look utterly gorgeous stretched open with a ring gag, especially if his spike was working in and out of it while he wore it. A ball gag would not be a bad idea either... for when he spanked him of course, the walls of the Nemesis were not that well sound proofed after all.

Eventually he had to pop his panel or risk a dent in a very unfavorable place. The medics might say it was impossible... but no, he was sure his spike was hard enough to cause dents. 

Testament to his pleasure haze he had not thought about what would happen when the slime glop reached his open panel and erect spike. He had not even touched it yet, wanting to draw out this wonderful fantasy of having his little enemy a willing participant in advanced berth play. 

He really should have, but frag... frag and pit and fragging pit! It felt like a valve, a strange undulating not quite wet and not really tight valve. and it reduced him to lie back like someone had offlined him with a flick of a switch. 

So ready to overload, completely unable to... 

His vents labored, those that were above the hot oil, and his hips moved in futile little jerks. 

It was not nearly as good as it would be to be inside the Prime but frag... and he needed some pressure right this instance! He reached down with one hand, letting his helmet fall back to rest on the rim of the tub, slowly massaging his spike from base to tip and back, heedless of the glop and its work. 

Heedless until it started to slide into his valve. 

The convulsive overload came so fast and hard he blacked out.

* * *

"Sir?" the voice roused him slowly, he onlined his optics and looked blearily at the upside down mechling from earlier. 

"Sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but would you perhaps want a fresh change of hot oil and a new cleaning blob?" the servant smiled reassuringly, "You have been soaking for nearly two joor, any debris should be gone but a thorough soak and clean is always so good after a visit to an organic planet." 

The little thing twittered on in the same vein, seemingly not noticing how unfocused his charge had become. Megatron was contemplating the idea of another joor or two immersed in hot oil and... cleaner blob? Best frag toy he had ever tried... maybe he should kidnap his little Prime and bring him here, have this blob thing soften him up and then frag him silly. 

Mmm, not a bad plan. 

Hmm... maybe he could purchase one of these 'cleaner blobs'. It would come in handy on earth, and then he would not have to transport the Prime so far. 

"Bring another of those... slime blobs and change the oil, I'll just rinse myself in the shower stall while you get to it," the mechling stopped talking in the middle of a sentence, bowed and stood back when Megatron rose. The Decepticon lord did not bother hiding his renewed erection, figuring he could take care of it in the shower the good old fashioned way... 

Yes, that way he would have a clear processor when he returned to the tub, his plans and fantasies and that wonderful little slime thing. 

This had been a _good_ idea. He would have to remember to commend Starscream, truly, this had been a brilliant plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU, G1/TFA/IDW smashup, AU The Blob (yes I went there so sue me!), slash, masturbation, mention of toys… killing your childhood with robot sex? Possibly bestiality... does a blob from outta space count as an animal?
> 
> My brain, I am proud of you!
> 
> Beta Wachey


	4. Naga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snakes baby, transformers Naga snakes to be precise... sexy and fluff

Thick slate coils wrapped around the sun heated rock spire, the metallic scales glittering like iron gems. On the flat top of the spire, the naga lord rested his elbow joints, chin lazily resting on the backs of his laced together hands.

The heat made the mountain slope looked like it was a writhing mirage of not-quite-there rock spires and scrawny crystal bushes. It was a most delicious sensation, being slowly baked though, his tank full of armor and energon.

Occasionally he would move a little, mainly his coils, to bring another part into the hot rays of Hadeen.

Nothing lasts forever though, and as Hadeen's orb climbed higher, so did the heat, until finally it became too much for even a lazy naga to endure.

Slowly uncoiling himself and sliding down the rough rock, he stretched his arms and then his torso, just to feel pliant muscle cabling shift. When he had finished the slow stretch, he began moving down the slope and a little to the right, aiming for the glittering loop of the river that coiled about the base of the mountain here, as he had coiled around the rock a moment ago.

The rasp of his scales against rock was soon replaced with the hiss of his moving through tall but wilted crysgrass, and then by the much more quiet hiss offered by fresh crysgrass.

He slid into the shallow, sun warmed, slow moving water of the river with a small huff of relief. Sliding deeper he immersed himself entirely; powerful arms and tail propelling him through the murky water as easily as he had moved on land... if not easier.

Moving away from the mountain, he reached a delta where the river's water grew even shallower, and scattered boulders broke the surface with sun warmed flats, perfect for a less overheating prone bout of sunbathing.

Surfacing again, he aimed for a large rock he often used for this very purpose, optics slitted against the glitter of light reflecting from the gently agitated water of the river surface.

Perhaps that was why he did not notice the small, multicolored coil occupying his resting spot, or perhaps it was the general sated laziness he was feeling this orn. No matter which reason, he did not see it till he had dragged his torso out of the murky river water and by then the small naga had spotted him, weary blue optics peaking out between striped coils.

It was hiding in its own coils; all he could see was blue blunt finger tips, shadows and a pair of bright optics. The blunted digits told him as much as the bright colors did, this was a water serpent naga... one of the non-venomous crystal feeders.

He pulled himself the rest of the way from the river, and finally saw the small naga uncoil enough to show himself, needing to do so to move back. It, he, only stopped when he was balancing precariously on the highest edge of the rock flat.

A mech, and fully grown too. Small as a youngling, though, with delicate features and the most kissable dermas he had ever seen on a naga. Even the rattle nagas were little to no competition.

His torso mirrored his tail colored perfectly, with red being the main color, blue, black and a silvery white making up the accents and details. The tail belly was the same silvery white, and the main portion of the tail had thin black stripes among broader blue and red ones. A bright, cheerful combination of colors that fit the wary, fearful demeanor badly.

"You are out of your home territory," Megatron kept his voice soothing, arranging his tail about him in a loose, relaxed set of coils. He did everything he could not to seem threatening, despite his words challenging the other naga's very presence there.

"Not that far away from it," he was surprised at the firm tone of the answer. Fearful or not, the little thing did not lack courage.

"But still out of it, are you not afraid of what might happen to a gentle water serpent in the territory of the fire serpents?" he smiled, well, smirked, showing off his fangs and razor sharp serrated dentals. Possibly not the wisest thing to do... the little one jerked backwards, losing his balance. Only a quick lunge prevented his fall.

Just to be sure, though, Megatron pulled him into his arms, cradling the lithe naga close to his chest plates and curling his own tail around the shorter brightly colored one.

"Careful there," he breathed against one of the little finials adoring the smaller naga's helmet; to his delight it twitched, brushing his dermas. "We don't want you to fall, do we?"

The multi color chassis was tense under his coils, plating and scale plating slicked tight to protect vulnerable seams. He chuckled and slid his dermas against the finial, feeling the convulsive shiver as his captive tried to coil up to hide from him.

An angry hiss warned him when he experimentally slid his dermas lower, it was adorable. He already had both the smaller naga's arms locked to his chassis, what did he think to defend himself with?

Freeing one of his hands he slid it up over the smooth chest and then further u~

"Frag!" his captive hissed at him from around a mouthful of hand plating. And he had sunk his dentals in deep; energon was welling up, filling the air with its thick scent.

Megatron threw his helmet back and laughed, delighted with the aggressive little water serpent naga. Unfortunately for the little one such a display did little to discourage his interest.

"Let go," another hiss and new pressure was put on the wound, little sharp dentas pulling painfully on his plating and the components under it. He huffed and shook his helmet. "Let go, little one, a bite from a venom-less little crystal feeder will not scare me into releasing him."

Yes, he was mocking him a little. Mostly because he wanted to see what he might do when provoked, his fighting spirit was just utterly adorable!

"I do not feed on crystals!" Wisely moving his wounded hand away from the energon stained dermas, he laughed at the angry retort.

"Then what do you feed on, little water serpent?" he knew only a little of the so called gentler kin known under the collective name of 'water serpents', they lived on the great plain that lay to the west of the river and seldom even came near it. 

They were named after water because the plain was studded with lakes. His own kin, the fire serpents, were named so because they were largely venomous, and the venom was said to feel like fire. 

"I'm a garden snake! Not a-a... water thing, I don't like water!" the shiver that went through the tightly coiled naga in his grip made it clear that it was more than a 'don't like'... fear might just be the real term to use. 

"How did you come to be out here, then?" not that he particularly minded the company, the smaller naga felt... good in his arms. Comfortable, slightly arousing even. 

Maybe more than just slightly. 

The tension was seducing, the way they were intertwined reminding him of interfacing, of a partner suspended in the moment before overload. Usually his partners were not this small though... 

Or afraid of water. 

Well, one could change and the other could be used as a bargaining chip.

"I could help you to the shore," he temporized, not bothering to hide the slightly teasing tone in his voice, "little garden snake." 

"I'm not sure if the water would not be preferable," it might be, but it did not sound like his wayward guest would chose it anyway. 

"What is the price of your help?" Wary, so wary... 

"Your reason for being here, for one... and then, well, then we can negotiate for the rest, can't we?" he knew what he wanted of course, and was reasonably sure he would get it too. After all, the pretty little naga wanted to go home, did he not? 

"It was not precisely by choice!" spat out, as if it was something he would rather not share. 

"That is not sharing, I could rather figure that out for myself, little one," a sharp intake of air followed, making him think for a moment that he might be yelled at but the sounds never came. 

"I fell in..." it sounded so awkwardly ashamed that he could not help a sharp bark of laughter from escaping him, "it is not funny!" of course that only made it impossible to strangle the laughter. 

"Well at least _someone_ is having a good orn," his dentals might not be venomous but his tone certainly could be. And deadly so! Could this naga become any more adorable and attractive? The urge to try and find out was nearly overpowering. 

"Yes, I am having a fine orn, thank you, little one," he nuzzled the twitching finial just for fun.

"Will you stop that! And stop with the 'little one' too, I'm not sma~ uh..." Megatron had the feeling that his captive were doing a mental calculation before speaking up again. "I'm not _that_ small!" the argument had rather lost its momentum by then though. 

"Perhaps not... but you have given me no other name to call you, and while I have ideas..." he trailed off, an edge of a growl lining his words. Oh, there were many things he was considering calling the garden snake naga, but he rather thought a good part of them would earn him another bite. 

Under the right circumstances that might be nice... 

"Optimus," it was gritted out, like the smaller naga hated having to give it to him, "my name is Optimus, and yes, I fell into the river, the brink gave out under me when I tried to reach a stone in the water..." he stopped, hesitating as if debating if he should continue. 

"That was four orn ago..." the bright red shoulders sagged.

"Four orn?" Megatron was rather shocked at that news, he had not... but... "Then you are not of the plain are you?" 

"No? I'm from... I'm from somewhere there," Optimus jerked his chin, indicating someplace back up the river's path.

"The river moves so much swifter there... it’s narrower too, and deeper," his voice dwindled and an uncontrollable series of shivers traveled through his chassis. "I woke up half way on this rock about... three orn ago? M-maybe my calculation is off but the moons haven't gained more light than four or... or maybe five or six orn," it was clear though that he did not like the idea of having lost that much time. 

"You must be starving!" pretty, aggressive _and_ resilient. Yes, apparently his captive could become far more attractive... It also explained why he had struggled so very little, even if he had eaten just before falling into the river his struggles to keep above water and get out... passing out and then ending up on this rock with nothing to feed on. He had to be on his last reserves. 

"Um... yeah," it was said so quietly that he almost did not catch it, would not have if he had not been waiting for a response. 

"Very well, I will help you cross the river to dry land... I will even help you hunt, but..." leaning his helmet against that of the smaller naga he licked that tempting little finial. "But... my price is you, at least once..." 

"Me? Your price is... me?" the squeak sounded so confused, so... lost. 

"Mhm, at least once... preferably more than that but we might not be compatible so I will demand only one time at this point," keeping his tone reasonable and level Megatron waited for the possible explosion. 

It did not come. 

"You mean mating, don't you?" the smaller naga's voice sounded shocked, but not... angry or disgusted. 

"Yes."

"And this sort of... b-bargaining is accepted among your kin?" Optimus' voice broke a little on the word bargaining, as if he was unused to it, or maybe because the goods up for barter were himself. 

"It is," that was the truth; a tumble could pay for a good deal of services. A clutch of eggs for a whole lot more. Megatron had bargained with his codes a few times, being a particular and very successful blend of codes himself. "I am simply asking for a tumble, nothing more than that... or a few tumbles, as we bargain it to be." 

"I... can accept that price," accepting it did not make him any less tense and perversely Megatron felt somewhat insulted by that. It could of course be the water still... 

He made no comment either way, releasing the smaller naga from his hold. Instead instructing him to move behind him and place his arms around his shoulders. It was very easy to tell how unhappy Optimus was when he slipped back into the river, the smaller naga clinging desperately to his back. This time, though, he kept above the surface, making sure the little one did not think he was about to be dragged into the river for the second time. 

Once back upon the river bank he left Optimus to hunt, as it was now clear just how low on energy the little naga truly was. He seemed barely able to curl up, hands shaking and optics far too dim. 

A couple of petrorabbits and an electrolizard later he was fast offline, making adorable little whimpering noises and twitching his tail tip. He did not wake or respond much when Megatron lifted him and carried him to the cave he called home. 

Usually he only used it in the rainy season, but this way he would know where the little naga was for certain. And stashing a kill or ten would not tempt many predators to invade a space that scented strongly of fire serpent nagas.

* * *

"You have fed me for orn now!" and the temper had improved along with strength and a little filling out around the middle. Megatron smirked, swallowing the last bit of the petrorabbit he had been eating. 

"Yes, four to be precise," contriving to look innocent he picked up another petrorabbit, inspecting it with the lazy appraisal of someone who was really full but would not mind a little something sweet for a chaser. 

"Our bargain," the tone was stiff with tension. It was the first time Optimus had said those words, though he had tried to allude to it a couple of times, Megatron had enjoyed playing dumb, being much entertained by the small flashes of temper it earned him. 

"What about our bargain?" a heavy huff answered that question, he still did not look away from his kill. A pair of small, blunt fingered hands came into his line of sight and the petrorabbit was gently taken from his fingers and put down on the small pile of dead critters it had been taken from. 

"I want to pay..." a pause, heavy and uncomfortable, "now." 

"In a hurry to leave, you do remember the exact words of the deal, right?" he looked up finally, and caught a strangely panicky look just before it was smoothed from the pale blue face plates.

"Of course I do! I simply wish to get it started... I want to return home some orn this season," that was a lie, an outright lie. Well, not the part about him wanting to return home perhaps, but the part about wanting it over with. There was something else panicking the little thing. 

"Very well," turning fully from their food he gestured towards the corner of the cave he had painstakingly filled with sand. Optimus' chin went up, and for a second it looked like he was going to balk but then he moved, shoulders falling though he proudly kept his helmet up. 

Interfacing was clearly not something his kin used as payment or bargaining tool. 

And yet he was too honor bound to leave it be or run out on his own word. In all honesty Megatron had considered letting him go, or at least not hunting him down if he slithered away in the middle of the dark cycle. But he could not tell him to go, and now he could not let him go... 

The brightly colored naga was too alluring, too full of spunk and temper. And too fragging beautiful... 

Megatron joined him in the sandy nest, careful to be gentle as he started to touch and explore. To his surprise the other naga did not resist or shy away, he even touched back, touch light and skilled. 

A surprise, but not an unwelcome one. 

It was not till the moment where his primary spike ripped the other's seal that he realized the hesitancy might not be from shyness or even inexperience. You could be plenty experienced in one area of interfacing while being a complete innocent on others after all.

"Little idiot," his voice was a lot more tender and gentle than his choice of words, "you could have told me!" 

"Doesn't matter," how did that compute? How did losing his seal not matter? "I'd have had to give it up soon anyway, mmnd you’re making it good," he fragging well hoped he was more than making it good! 

That made very little sense to Megatron but for the last part, yet this was not the time to have a detailed discussion about interfacing and what to tell someone before you agreed to it. 

It was not really the time to think at all. 

Keeping the smaller naga pinned to the sand of the nest he applied what little sense he had left on blowing his circuits with pleasure. His diligence earned him three overloads before his secondary spike's overload sealed the little one's valve.

* * *

"You did not have to come," Optimus had become more and more agitated as they neared the place he called home. As if he did not want the big naga with him, which was quite possible, but Megatron was not ready to let go of his prize. If someone else had some sort of claim on the brightly colored naga, he would challenge it. 

"No, I did not," he left it at that, earning another huff from the smaller one. 

The first clue to them actually having reached Optimus' home was a small blue grey naga who, unheeding of Megatron, happily greeted Optimus, asking where he had been hiding. There was concern for him, but mostly it seemed his multicolored companion liked to keep to himself even here 'at home'

"And it's almost time! You are going to choose someone this vorn, right? I mean you don't have to participate in th~," blue optics slid from Optimus to Megatron and the other paused for a moment, "in the event, but at least choose someone, you will have to contribute or you might be declared," the other's cheerful tones fell and took on an almost frightened tint, "barren." 

"I... Yes, of course, Blue'," but Optimus did not seem able to meet 'Blue's' optics, nor Megatron's. With that reassurance the grey naga finally left them, giving Megatron's audio receptors a much needed rest. 

"What are you not telling me," he did not bother making it a real question, more stating his thoughts aloud. Optimus had not seemed willing to share at any point, and did not seem much inclined now either. 

He seemed uncomfortable, even a little afraid. 

"It's nothing important," except it clearly was. The smaller naga moved slower and slower, clearly reluctant about going where he needed to be. 

"Would it not be easier if you told me?" 

"I don’t think so," the wary tone was back. 

"You could be thinking wrong," he was most certainly wrong. 

"Or I could be right," stubborn little thing, but that was part of his attraction.

"Or I could be right," a hiss and then, finally, the brightly colored naga turned to him, pretty optics sparkling with anger. 

"They expect me to participate in the vornly orgy, produce a clutch, and give the viable eggs up to a bonded pair, there! you happy now?" not really, it did not seem like Optimus was particularly happy and so Megatron felt justified for being very unhappy about it. 

"Why?" his tone was hard, he knew that but he wanted... perhaps needed, to know. 

"Because... because..." Optimus gestured helplessly and hissed finally, shoulder slumping, "because that's how it's done, I won't get to keep any viable eggs till I mate, it's how it's done..." the little naga hugged himself, optics on the ground. Clearly unhappy, clearly not agreeing with this tradition? Verdict? Law?

"This was not your first home, was it? You have not been raised with this custom, this... law?" neither had he, and he did not like it!

"No... I'm, my Creator was not from here, but my Carrier was so... and I was not old enough to be on my own when my Creator died and my Carrier brought me back here," a shrug, "he thought it was best to do so."

"You could take a mate," that would allow him to keep the eggs. 

"Who? Bluestreak? Blurr? Primus forbid it, Bumblebee? Everyone I could feel... that for is paired off... the rest are too young, too old, or dislike me for mixed coding!" the outburst was cute, and Megatron noted that he had not been mentioned in the equation at all. 

"I am not too young, too old... and I certainly do not dislike you," he grinned, showing sharp fangs and raggered dentals, at the stunned expression on the smaller naga's face plates. 

"But... you said just a tumble? Just a few..." he could fairly hear the thoughts colliding inside the pretty little helmet.

"Our bargain was for a tumble, yes, or a few... you have given me more than any bargain could call for though," he tilted his helmet, "I had thought you would have said something if you wanted more than interfacing, I took your seal... I did not want to presume that more was mine to take," but he had wanted to. 

"So..." hesitant, hoping?

"So yes, if you allow it I will take you as mate, and be there for you and our eggs," he put his hand over the barely there bulge... part of the reason why he had followed the little naga on a tediously tiring land journey for over ten orn. 

"How long..." why did he look so tempting licking his dermas like that?

"You began showing a couple of orn ago, but your appetite has been increasing," his smile was wicked, "and not only the one for fuel." 

That earned him a hot flush and a small embarrassed hiss. But also one of those beautiful smiles that the too serious naga so seldom gave. 

"So you followed me all the way here, just hoping you had... well, uh..." 

"Gotten you heavy? No, I had no idea if you had conceived, but I was hoping to either manage that or that I would be able to kill whoever else had a claim on you," he shrugged carelessly. 

"You..." Optimus spluttered, caught between laughter and horrified fascination. 

"Yes, I love you that much."

* * *

"Shhh..." the soothing almost hiss like noise made the small newly hatched still its struggles, and it chirped as it was plucked from the debris of egg shell and fluids. More chips and trills followed as it was gently cleaned and fed before being put onto clean sand to coil up with its four brethren. 

"One..." Megatron shook his helmet and prodded the last egg in the nest before quickly breaking the shell. Clear fluid seeped out, not a hint of lilac there at all. 

"One slug egg..." Optimus had told him many times that most of the eggs he laid would likely be slugs, infertile lures. The smaller naga had been greatly distressed when he only produced six eggs in all, big yes, but clearly he had been expecting a lot more. 

"It's a miracle," the other's voice was shaking and Megatron quickly turned from the hatching nest to comfort his mate. It was a miracle, like any hatching was a miracle. but he understood, the release of all that fear and fretting... 

"It is, and the wait is over, they are all here... healthy and able," and beautiful, bright colors and pretty if as yet generically sparkling in their lines. 

"Come," he shifted his optics from his offspring to his mate and held out a hand in gentle command. Optimus did not hesitate sliding his own hand into the offered one, moving to press into his side. 

They stayed coiled up together by the nest as they both fell into their own recharge cycles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA, slash, snake mechs, snake eggs, implied snake orgy, uh… stuff…
> 
> This bunny would not lie down and be done...
> 
> Naga http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N%C4%81ga
> 
> Optimus http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_garter_snake
> 
> Megatron http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_mamba and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaconda
> 
> Beta Akzeal, Wachey, Dellessanna and Umalia


	5. Mermonster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans should really leave some things alone...

The darkness was soothing... so unlike the sharp light that the strange creatures insisted on, no matter how much he thrashed in the bonds they put on him. They could hold him, if not truly hurt his metal scales. 

They had other things though, things that hurt... things that cut, ripped, stabbed. 

Things that burned. 

Those last things, those he feared the most. He was a being of water, and fire was his enemy.   
Durable armor or not, his processor was not quite as resilient. He tried speaking to them, tried telling them to let him go, that they were hurting him. That the water in his prison smelled and tasted of death and pain. 

It also tasted of others. Of their pain, their suffering... and their deaths.

He did not want to know what was coming, but the water's taste did not lie... but more than his death he feared for his young, the eggs that the strange creatures had yet to touch. 

He knew they would. 

They had already tried to pry open his panels, cut them open... even melt them off. The pain had been excruciating for many joor, and even now he still felt aches all over his chassis. 

His spark called continuously after its other half, but he could not tell if anything ever answered. Maybe the creatures had somehow killed his mate but prevented himself from following?

His little mate, his lovely one. Strong and capable but what was that against creatures that could catch and hold a carrier? 

Only when they left him for a while and that unpleasant sharp light went away did he feel able to rest, able to regain himself a little. Able to think and grieve. But he was slowly losing himself, sometimes not knowing what he grieved for, his mate? His young... himself?

* * *

" _No, no, we don't know where they came from... there were a whole lot of them... hmmm, no no..._ " the sounds were meaningless, but he did not need to understand them. They had been careless... thinking that a small thing as the width of an ocean would keep them from reclaiming their lost ones. 

And there were no real care in hiding what they did, the water around this artificial dry place smelled of pain, tasted of agony. It was as if they were proud of their doings... 

It would cost them though, he would make sure of it, they all would! Three couples lost... they could not afford to lose more. The only comfort to take was that they had not yet lost someone egg heavy, but it was a cold comfort... at this rate it was only a matter of time before these creatures stole another life, maybe many lives. 

First he had to locate the captive ones though, then... yes, then!

* * *

Here, he was here! He felt it, deep in his spark... felt the discomfort of moving though dry air, the longing and the concentration needed for his work. 

And he could not help him. Not from his cramped tank that did not even allow him to transform, had he been able to while egg heavy. He did not even know if he could transform, uncertain of what damage they had done to him. 

He wanted to be free of the tank. Wanted to have his processor back, not be afraid of what the next touch might mean to his eggs. To him. Not to fear pain. 

~Beloved,~ even though the bond whispered the word at him he shied away from the larger than normal shadow against the tank side. He was used to the little creatures coming up to tap at the see though material, blurry shadows heralding pain. But he recognized this one, and the palms placed flat on the vertical surface. Even as he physically shied away his spark reached out. 

His mate, in his so rarely used bipedal root mode. 

~What have they done to you… to you all?~ the pain and sadness and guilt was so strong. But he forced the guilt away, felt anger that his other half would blame himself for the actions of lesser beings. 

~Get me out of here!~ the demand carried desperation, anger, and torment with it. He could feel how his mate flinched and then mentally shouldered the burden. 

~We will get you all out!~ the hands left, the shadow with them and he felt alone even though he could still feel his mate. It did not matter, as long as they could not swim together he was alone… 

But his mate had never let him down.

* * *

“What is this?” the voice was cold enough to make the young officer shiver, glad that it was his superior being interrogated and not him. Of course that was a temporary relief, every one of the survivors were being questioned, and then questioned again.

No matter how many times they had to tell it, it still seemed farfetched. Impossible. 

“It is a plate from one of the habitat's outer walls, sir,” his superior answered calmly.

“And this?” a well manicured hand pointed to the four parallel tears in the plate. 

“Claw marks, sir,” eyebrows rose all around. 

“Elaborate, vice admiral,” the older man squared his shoulders and answered, in all honesty the officer was surprised he could answer with a straight face. Real or not, the truth or not… it just seemed, too fantastical to believe. Survivor from it or not.

“The habitat was attacked by smaller versions of the dozen or so beings we had taken into… custody. They ripped apart the outer and inner walls of the lab parts of the habitat first, then demolished the rest of it… they let the life pods and subs be,” a sharp gesture from the high admiral silenced him. 

“They were called creatures, mechanical monsters… even mermonsters a time or two in the initial reports, vice admiral, tell me why you, and nearly all of the other survivors, insist on calling them ‘beings’ now?” the tone was one they had all gotten used to, superior, sneering… disbelieving. 

“With all due respect, high admiral,” the vice general shook his head and the officer wished he could see his facial expression right then, “if you had seen what we saw? These beings are intelligent… they have weapons built into their bodies. And they saved their own kin from us,” the high admiral made to speak up but the admiral held up his hand, not finished speaking. 

“And again, with all due respect, you can be as disbelieving as you like about the reports and eyewitness accounts… But think about it this way, high admiral, we’ve killed three of them in the name of science… tortured a dozen or so of them. They are out there now, in the vastness of the oceans of Earth. We don’t know how many, we don’t know where they came from or where they are now. We pissed them off and they demolished a habitat in a matter of minutes,” he paused, just to let the words sink in, the realization that every survivor had had when they saw their workplace, their home of many month be torn to strips and scrap. 

“We pissed them off royally, and if they decide that the habitat was not enough of a revenge?” his superior shrugged and lifted his hands palms up and empty, “if not, we’re screwed, the oceans will belong to them and any human trying to travel it will be in mortal peril. Maybe you should use less time not believing us, and more time thinking of ways to make the real life Loch Ness monsters like us a bit better…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA/TFP/G1, not naming anyone though it should be clear who’s who where it matters, mpreg, slash implications, robotic sea serpents/monsters
> 
> Inspiration is a very strange thing… this turned out stranger still…
> 
> Beta AKzeal and various other guests at my TitanPad session


	6. Spider Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if certain events in TFA had gone differently?

"No... no, _no_ ," the distress was sparkbreakingly clear, it always was. His mate thrashed, limbs becoming tangled in the berth covers and thermal blankets. His ventings became irregular and strained to the point where his fans would stutter and stall. 

It was terrible to watch, all he wanted to do was wake him... pull him out of the cycle and sooth away the memory that made him suffer this. 

But it never worked. 

It was only a small reprieve for once the smaller mech fell back into his cycle the memories would start over. 

He had been so broken when they found him all those vorn ago, and even now his scars were only healed on the outside. There was nothing to do about it, Hook insisted that he had to deal with it on his own. 

If only they knew if it was the betrayal or the actions he had taken… but Optimus rarely spoke about it, refused to talk even when pressed. And pressing only made the purges worse for a time, they were bad enough as it was. 

_She_ did not help, the half organic that he had allowed to join their ranks. Hook had said it might help, it had not… Blackarachnia was another reminder of failure. Or at least he assumed that was why his mate shied from her.

There were questions of why he had taken him to berth, and later declared him his mate. Megatron had to admit that he could not entirely explain. 

Broken, but so strong… 

He knew, knew that deep inside the younger mech was a core so hard and strong that vorn of mental torment had yet to break him. Self inflicted torment. He had even offered him a spark bond, and had it rejected. 

And he could not give him up despite that. 

“NO!” even in his anguished self torment he was beautiful, arching from the berth, plating slick with condensation. Voice raw with pain.

“Sentinel… no, no, NO!” Sentinel, Elita-one… he called to both, sometimes even called to Blackarachnia for all that he refused to face her when he was awake. But was the trauma born of guilt or anger… 

Blackarachnia had told them her side of the story, tempered by having seen how her former friend suffered. About how her Sigma ability had made her into the mutation she was now, how she could not see any way for the other young Prime cadet to have saved her. 

Sentinel’s story had come via Shockwave, the mech who had left Optimus behind on a hostile world. The Autobots thought that both Elita and Optimus was dead, did not even bother to send a ship to check the ‘survivors’ word, the planet was interdicted after all. 

The last of the three had not fare well at all, kicked from the Elite guard. Shunned and blamed, Shockwave still did not know what had become of him. He had tried, the theory of the three being united helping his mate… but it was no use. 

And maybe they were wrong. 

Maybe it was not guilt or pain or anger that haunted his mate and made him reject anything deeper. 

He had been stranded for so long before they came by to reclaim their lost war ship. Vorn… he had been covered in small wounds, some healed, some half healed, some new. Some possibly self inflicted. 

Starved and beaten by the organic world. 

Maybe it was not the loss of his fellow cadets that haunted him. Maybe it was not guilt that made him shy from Blackarachnia.

“NOOOOO! Get away from me!” 

Maybe it was monsters that haunted his traumatized processor. 

Spider monsters…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA, Spiders, nightmares, slash hints
> 
> Beta AKzeal


	7. Plant Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus is just going to help Perceptor relax... thats all, really!

”Perceptor?” the air of the lab was still… not bad but it had the feeling of being unused somehow. Which was unnatural when it came to the microscope’s domain. Perceptor was always working, that was why he was here, after all.

Ratchet had kicked him out from his office and he had offered to at least do some good with his forced off time by going and fetching the reclusive scientist out from his ‘cave of wonders’ as Spike had dubbed the lab. Doing something like that made it feel less like he was wasting time and more like pulling his load. 

He had a feeling that Ratchet was only allowing it because the medic knew he needed to do something in order to actually relax. If not work, then something he could tell himself was a benefit to his mechs.

Cautiously moving into the lab he looked around at the many tables and projects that seemed to litter the big room. He was sure there was some sort of order to it, but what it was he could not tell…

After a moment he realized that there was a strange odor to the air, sort of spicy with a hint of sweetness. It was quite a nice scent; even somewhat familiar in a way… he just could not place it. and there was an undertone of ozone too, making him wonder if Perceptor had been doing some sort of electricity experiments. 

It was an insufficient form of energy for their use but the scientist had worked on projects to better human life since he and Sparkplug had had a long talk about pollution and endangered animals. 

Rounding the corner of a work table he stepped in something wet and a stronger waft of the spicy sweet scent reached him. the lilac sheen to the liquid on the floor made him frown behind his mask but he dismissed it, continuing deeper into the lab. It was really odd too that it was so dark in here… Perceptor usually had plenty of light on, insisting on a safe work environment. 

“Perceptor?” he called again, and this time he heard something, like a… hiss, like something sliding along a metal surface. 

“Percy?” this was highly disconcerting, the mech just did not leave his lab unless forced to! 

Optimus quickened his step, walking to the very back of the lab where things stood much closer together and the shadows seemed even darker. Too dark for him to notice that one of the tables was not a table at all. Too many things to throw the slight noises of movement around the lab that were all the warning he really had. 

He felt the touch but by then it was too late and the strong thin cables pulled him down before he managed more than to lift one pede. 

On hands and knees he twisted, reaching back to pull the things off his legs but more of them came out of the dark and wrapped around his hand, his arms… his torso. They were not harsh… and they were also not cables he had accidentally tangled himself up in as he had first thought. 

They moved for one thing. 

For another they were moving with actual intent. 

They were warm as they slid over his plating, a strange kind of moist warmth. And they were interested in his seams. Even the ones wrapped around and holding him had their tips in his seams, working over his circuitry and wires with a surprisingly delicate touch. 

It felt a little like fingers, thin wet fingers stroking him like a lover might… 

Involuntarily that brought back an old memory. From before he became Optimus Prime, when he had still just been an uneducated dock worker by the designation Orion Pax, a dock worker with an interest in warrior framed mechs. 

A guilty pleasure of having sound proofed wash racks… 

“Uhh…” much as he could wish he was unmoved by the touching he could not claim it to be so. There were so many tendrils, all sliding over him, inside his armor… even working over his panel. It was as if they knew what they were doing, or it knew… Was this one of Perceptor’s experiments? 

Another moan sounded and he dropped his forehelmet to the cool floor plating, wishing he could ignore the rising need, the familiarity of moist touches. 

“Mm…” he could not be thinking of that mech now! It was… just no… 

But… 

“Me-Megatron…” that was the mech Orion Pax had fantasized about, the mech he still sometimes guiltily fantasized about in the quiet of a dark night. And it was that mech his thoughts turned to in this situation, molested by… gods knew what. 

“Uhh…” 

“Prime?” the call was in Perceptor’s precise tones but the way it was said had a panicky quality to it that was not usually found in the scientist’s voice. A moment later light flooded the lab and Optimus bit back another moan as the tendrils pried at his panel. 

“Primus, Primus…” that was panic, he was sure of it even as a moan slipped past what little control he had, thankfully not bearing any understandable sounds. The sound of light pede steps running was getting louder by the moment. 

“Oh gods, no, I… give me a moment, Prime,” he could not even manage to raise his helmet from the floor. A moment later he felt a small jolt of charge that was not his and the tendrils loosened their hold. 

A few of the strange jolts later and he could drag himself shakily from the hold of his ‘assailant’ to prop against a nearby table. 

Finally he saw the thing and could not help but cycle his optics in surprised confusion. 

A plant? A large plant consisting of long green tendrils, or tentacles, that waves about in the air. Perceptor had a long rod in his hands that sparked at one end and which he was using to herd the tendrils back with. 

“I am so sorry, Prime, I apologize profoundly! I was not aware that you would come down here,” the panic was still there, an odd tone to hear from Perceptor. 

“What _is_ that?” was all Optimus could manage to ask, his systems still very much revved up. Looking down at himself he could see an oily sheen left behind by the plant thing. It was coating most of his plating, droplets of it on the edges of his plating. 

“Ironhide brought it back, from that… that expedition he was on? It’s quite harmless really, but very amorous…” panic was replaced by something even odder, abashed was also a new thing in the scientist's tone. 

“We have… I mean, Ironhide and I have been… uh, f-feeding it I suppose you could say,” a gesture with his free hand, a helpless telling flap. 

“It’s really quite… but I should of course have warned, I simply did not _think_ …” Optimus could not help but laugh. A slow deep rumble of helpless amusement… 

And here he had come to make the scientist relax, it seemed Ironhide had found a better method. A plant that could interface preceptor into taking a break… 

Hmm… maybe he should borrow it, then Ratchet might get off his back plates and he would be able to get worriless recharge. Of course maybe not guiltless, considering the name he might well moan during such a session but… 

“Give me a couple of hours with it, and I’ll make sure Prowl does not throw a fit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1, plant sexing (attempted), tentacles, molesting, mentions of masturbation fantasies 
> 
> Beta Akzeal


	8. Octomonster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance accident and a new future is written...

Orn of the Well Rift was a big celebration; sparklings in monster costumes… even adult mechs and femmes in costumes. Creativity and decorations openly displayed and sparklights strewn over the city like a sea of optics. And then there were the floating spark light lanterns… but they would not be released till full dark had fallen… 

It was the orn where you did your best to look scary and create a distraction. The orn where malicious offline came to try and take your chassis for their own, where sparkeaters prowled the streets and might just make a meal out of you, where the monsters of the rust seas rose to the surface and no water skimmer would be safe on the red waves. 

Maybe all that had been true once, now it was just myth and legend and the orn was one to celebrate all that was scary and strange. Mechs and femmes dressed up as the spawn of Unicron, the heralds of the Pit, sparkeaters and rust sea monsters. Or as the latest holo hero, or one of the rulers of Cybertron. There were many a bid for the most creative and beautiful costume. Many competitions to enter and fun prizes to win. 

On every street vendors stood, selling crystal energon candy wrought into fantastic shapes. Some even made it right then and there with a cheering crowd around them. 

Everyone was out shopping and celebrating, getting ready for the orn to come after, the orn of family gatherings, memory sharing and storytelling. Orn of the Allspark, where you’re lost loved ones might visit the world of mortals and grant you a happy and safe vorn to come. 

Orion was laughing and joking with Dion, Hot Shot and Ariel when he ran into the much larger mech. He had enough speed going that he manage to knock himself clean off his pedes, losing his grip on both his shopping bag and the sparklight lantern in his other hand. The kibble wings on his back rattled ominously, secure enough for something’s but not for wild jostling around. 

“Well, well, what do we have here, a seeker?” the large black hand being offered to him was attached to a light grey arm. Orion took it and was hauled onto his pedes with a single powerful pull. 

“Thank you, sir, I am real~,” his voice died as he looked up and finally realized who he had run into. Megatronus smiled gently at him, the large horns attached to his helmet seeming oddly out of place though they had been painted the same color as his armor. It was not hard to see that he was a representation of Primus in his warrior configuration… 

“No need to apologize, pretty one, we all get excited on orns like these!” the deep voice rumbled, Orion swallowed and tried to find his voice again but the much larger mech let go and bend down to retrieve his bag and the lantern. 

“But this, this will never do!” 

“Oh no!” Orion almost whimpered forgetting his awe at the company he was in when he realized that most of his purchased energon had spilled, the crystal candy sculpts broken and his lanterns thin metal sheets torn. His helmet was tilted back by a big black finger under his chin.

“Don’t worry, pretty little seeker, I will fix this,” he blinked, his optics blinking off and online in quick succession. 

“B-but I ran into you, sir?” sweet as it was of the councilor and war build to offer to do so he had been the one doing wrong. 

“Ah! But I was standing in the middle of a busy street jabbering instead of sensibly finding a café to sit at,” Orion did not know what to say to that and was soon enough being lead around to different vendors to repurchase his items. 

The large councilor was polite and friendly, talking equally to Orion and his friends, as if they were not mere dockworkers and archivists… 

It did not take all that long till his things were replaced, the new items far grander than his meager salary could have provided. Megatronus did not only buy for him though, providing his friends with things as well, insisting that he had caused the accident and wanted to make reparations since he was taking their time. 

“Thank you, sir, thank you so much!” Orion clutched his new bag and lantern to his chest, not knowing what else to say. 

“Megatronus, Orion, how many times must I ask you to call me simply Megatronus,” the large councilor shook his horn crowned helmet. “One last thing though… ah, here!” Orion was guided over to one of the candy sculpture makers and Megatronus held up his hand, gesturing something to the smaller street vendor. A nod was given back and the vendor immediately bent over his glass plate, liquid energon being poured out with a precision that Orion could only envy. 

Finally the piace was pulled off the glass and handed over to Megatronus who gently handed the figurine to Orion. 

The filigree octomonster was almost too beautiful to be eaten but Orion knew that if he did not it would simply degrade and melt into gel like goo… 

“Thank you, s… uh, Megatronus, it is beautiful,” he gently bit off a piace and smiled happily at the spicy sweet taste. 

The councilor laughed and nodded. 

“Go on now, I have taken enough of your time, pretty Orion, little seeker of the Well, maybe I will see you again some orn, you and your friends,” Orion flushed hot and giggled but nodded anyway, though there was little chance of him ever meeting the politician ever again.

* * *

“And then the monster was defeated by Primus in his warrior aspect, the horned god plunging the star saber though the monsters shadow spark!” loud giggles broke out and the sparklings immediately called for more stories to be told. Orion smiled and then jerked back in surprise when something was held up before his optics. 

A moment later he laughed gaily. The gleaming fresh candy of the blue and red octomonster all too familiar. 

“You found the vendor?” 

“Oh yes, he is where he is every orn, my pretty little Well seeker,” the deep voice made him flush with pleasure as he felt it skitter up and down his kibble adorned back struts. 

“Flatterer, councilor sir,” he teased even as he took the piece of candy, “Go retrieve our Creations, they will never forgive me if I devour this evildoer all on my own.”

“Anything for you, beloved,” a kiss was pressed to the top of his helmet and Orion laughed again, watching as Megatronus stowed forward to collect the pair of brightly colored twins and their purple older brother. 

“Yay monster candy!” 

Just like every Orn of the Well Rift…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1-ish, war never happned, Orion met Megatronus and love happned, Mpreg implied, slash implied
> 
> Nnoca, darkshadeless and this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQlQQDP6hNY :heart:!
> 
> Beta none sorry ^^;


	9. Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An amorous Incubus wants a certain demon lord...

There he was… the Incubus bit his lower derma and kept a whimper of want back.

The Demon lord was oblivious to watchers and admirers alike, sitting on his stone throne on a ledge above a molten fire pit. Great dark wings curved behind him, the horns on his helmet curving out and up, tips crowned with flickering flames.

He looked the part of fire lord from color to poise, danger incarnated even to other demons. It made heat pool low in the incubus’ chassis. Not that he needed further incentive to seek out a demon to mate with…

It was his time to procreate, give life to a new demon. The third time of his life and he was determined to carry and birth another incubus this time! He refused to just let any demon take him again, this time he was skilled and powerful enough to avoid being dominated by whichever brute got a hold of his wings.

Setting his sight on a lord was perhaps aiming high, but at the very least he would be noticed by other high demons…

Incubi were an oddity among demons, they had no great power over fire or pain, they were not physically the most powerful though they did have both fangs and claws and would fight dirty if needed. However they were immune to most things that harmed other of the lesser demon kin, fire of any kind did not touch them, acid did not burn them and even most harmful magic slid right off them with no harm done.

They were one of only three types of demon who could carry and birth demon young, and of those they were the ones that carried the strongest new sparks.

They were the rarest of demons though, only truly mixing with other demon kin when heat came on and they had to find a demon to seed their spark.

Most of the time they lived among the mortals, feeding off of their lust, and sometimes their sparks, as the individual mortal deserved. No mere mortal could impregnate an incubus though, unlike their closest and far more numerous kin the Succubi.

The breeder demons delighted in bringing wretched half mortal creatures into the mortal world to create havoc and destruction. And they served as breeders for most other demons too, their lives one big orgy of interfacing, pain and creation. There were times that he envied them the simplicity of that life… at least they had a defined place.

And then there was the lillium… the absolute dredge of their kin. The derivative of the Incubi and Succubi kind that was used to breed lesser demonic kin, imps and ogres and other such mindless creature.

Megatron however was something entirely different… a Demon lord, a Pit lord, a fire demon. The most powerful breed there was. Yes, he was aiming high, and hoped to be caught in the fall.

The trick was to find the right moment to approach him though. And Optronix had been fighting his heat while scouting the Demon lord’s routines for orn now. 

He watched as the big demon rose from his throne and took wing for the short flight down to the shore of the molten fire pit, noting that most of the court turned away to give the powerful demon privacy. 

That at least was what they would say if asked. But it was a demon court; it was more likely they were plotting ways of ingratiating themselves to the powerful lord or plotting to attempt overthrowing him, if they were cocky enough. 

Optronix had no such plans. He wanted to frag the Demon lord and then retreat to give his creation life... he was sure it would be an incubus if someone as powerful and smart as the fire demon sired it. 

At the very least it would not be another mindless brute, another of thousands. He could not keep his first and second sparked, they simply did not have the mental capacity to be anything but lesser demons, soldiers of the lords... 

Lords like Megatron. 

Creeping around the area the court used he reached the farthest shore of the lake of molten fire, slipping in with only a small hiss of brief discomfort. He could handle fire, but there was always a momentary flash of pain before he adjusted.

He swam across the lake, as silently as he could. Knowing from experience that the fire demon would be resting, relaxing in the molten metal. Or at least relaxing as much as a Demon lord ever could. 

It was not a rank to envy, from his point of view, though many a demon did. Envy those that were not equipped with the power or the processor to attain such a rank... it was yet another thing that set the incubi apart. Indeed, all of the Creations of Lilithia were remarkably devoid of that ambition. 

The lillium were as processor impaired as the spawn they sparked into the world of the Pit. The Succubi were malicious and would breed with anything, just as happy to kill the Co-creator as to let him or it go. 

Only the Incubi were capable of having ambitions on behalf of their littles, and mostly those ambitions were to create at least one of their own kin. Another Incubus... 

And only that desire could drive one into something like this, it might well cost him his spark, but he wanted to try. Rather that than give birth to another disappointingly ugly processorless brute!

Even worst case for a sparking like this, the resulting offspring should have both power and processor to become something in the world of demons, if it should fall on its sire's side of the coding.

"My lord?" his hiss was quiet, sultry and he stayed still for a long moment, waiting to see if the fire demon reacted. Surprisingly he did not, apparently truly recharging. Optronix was suspicious but still approached. 

The molten metal lapped gently at dark armor, sliding against it... it made his heat leap and struggle against what little control he had. Sensual... he wanted to claw at that plating until it opened and he could have the spark and its energy. 

Heat was a hard task master. 

" _My_ lord," just once, but that would be enough with his heat this advanced and aggressive. 

As soon as he touched him he knew it had been too good to be true. The larger demon grabbed his hand in a crushing grip, rising from the molten lake with a roar of anger the like of which Optronix had never heard. 

It did little but make him purr though, the display of strength hitting right home. Dark red optics blazed with magic power, the waves of it gathering like a physical caress to the caught Incubus. 

He never got to know what spell might have been used though, for the demon lord's optics suddenly narrowed, the gaze raking up and down his chassis without any recognition sparking. 

He had expected nothing; few demons truly knew the difference between Incubi and Succubi, though all knew that Succubi were different by far from lillium. 

"What are you doing!" there was nothing at all friendly in that tone, but of course that only made him shiver and reach towards the larger demon with his free hand. It was promptly knocked away and he hissed hungrily. 

"A Succubus... impossible!" the impossibility seemed to anger the demon lord, and Optronix could not help a bark of laughter escaping him. He knew his own optics would be blazing now, with lust and the magic only a creation of Lilithia could call on... the magic that created demon sparks. 

"Not a Succubi, Lord of fire, an Incubi... your Incubi," twisting and flapping his own wet and heavy wings once he managed to get up enough to sink his fangs into the hand holding him. The larger demon growled and shook him violently without letting go. 

"Insolent little thing, get away before I slaughter you," it hurt to land in the thick liquid, just as it hurt to be tossed aside. But he was not going to give up... licking the fresh energon from his fangs he purred, optics darkening to a near black blue. 

The taste of power... it was... 

But not now. Not yet, he could control the heat for a while yet to have his prize. 

No other demon would do now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1 Dreamwaves, Demons, slash hints (with a sledgehammer), wacked out demonology, biting… 
> 
> This will be a two parter with tomorrows entry ;) enjoy!
> 
> Beta Akzeal, Wachey, Dellessanna


	10. Incubus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change...

The little nuisance was back. 

It... he, had taken to perch where he was impossible to ignore, with all that gleaming red, blue and silvery plating it was hard to ignore him even when he semi hid. 

Nothing seemed to bite on the stubborn little succubus, mostly he just moaned and gave off a strangely thick scent of lust magic. One that Megatron was well aware that he was not entirely immune to.

And there was that oddness... that inexplicable immunity to fire, magic... even being clawed seemed not to mean much to the little thing. He was one of the largest Succubi Megatron had ever seen, too... of course, he also insisted he was not a Succubus at all. 

'Incubus'

He had no clue what that might be, and he was old, had been in power for a long time... possibly longer than the little stalker had been online. 

Of course that did not mean he could not be telling the truth, Megatron knew he did not know all there was to know. He was not Unicron after all, simply one of his heralds. But if such a thing existed... a demon kin almost completely immune to all the weapons any demon could put to bear on them? Why were they not ruling the Pits? 

Why was this one not trying to kill him? 

Plenty of other demons were trying to, it came with his rank and power. Perversely it kept him alive too, never truly letting his guard down... senses finely honed to detect treachery and attempts at his life. 

But this one slipped under all those defenses, slid right past those senses. Made him feel vulnerable, he did not like it. He hated it, but he was too intrigued by the other to end him.

What would happen if he allowed him to do what he wanted? 

He was beginning to think it might be a very, very nice experience. Provided he was in control of it naturally, he knew well that succubi were sparkeaters. 

While he was debating the pros and cons of fragging the little thing, said little thing were slinking closer. He was aiming for the shore again... Megatron smiled lazily, tracking the other's progress with singleminded intent. 

Yes, he could turn the table on him. He was after all a gorgeous little thing... Not so little again though. Smaller, slimmer, sleeker... Perversely thin armor for all that magical protection too. A handful no doubt, the thought enough to turn his grin into an anticipatory smirk.

On he watched as the slim chassis slid into the molten metal, the orange red glow making his red color almost the same shade as Unicron's spark, and his blue into an unholy shade of purple almost like the energon known as Unicron's fuel. 

Decidedly arousing...

Dimming his optics he let the strange demon, this _Incubus_ approach. It was clear that he knew he was being watched, there was a quality of weariness in his movements... A sort of sensual showing off with the awareness of possible pain to come.

Megatron let him come leaning back against the comparative coolness of the smooth obsidian that framed the fiery contents of his molten pit. A hand, claw tipped and almost dainty even for its size, reached for his chest, almost... Almost touching...

"You are persistent," it was snatched back weary, lust darkened optics tracking up to his faceplates, a glint of a silver glossa sneaking out to wet temptingly pouty dermas. This being, this demon, had clearly been made to drive mortals wild with desire... He could easily see it working on many demons too. Even now his own spike pressed eagerly against the inside of his panel. 

"Nothing to say?" he lifted an optical ridge mockingly, smirk growing wide enough for the tips of his fangs to show. 

"I am not sure I trust that you allow me to speak," the voice was possibly more lethal than the looks... So thick with lust, tone so sultry and clear. It sounded like he spoke in moans, just as his title had sounded like a prolonged gasp of ecstasy and his name as if the mech had a minor overload just from saying it.

"You are an intriguing little riddle, a demon that should not exist... Abel to invade even this space without harm, sweet energon that stir my lust, a voice like distiller sin..." the blue black optics off lined for a brief moment, a look of unadulterated pleasure crossing the pretty light blue face plates. 

"I can sate the lust I stir if you allow it, my lord?" a dangerous offer indeed... 

"Very well," grabbing the startled demon he hauled him up on the smooth cool obsidian shore and pressed him to it. He laughed when smaller, sharp claws sank into his plating, the look of enraged shock a delight in and of itself.

"let go of me!" the demand was clearly furious but the lust lacing the voice spoke of a desire just as powerful as the fury. 

"No, you offered to sate the lust you have made burn in my loins, little demon, open to me!" his demand was met wi a furious hiss and futile struggling. Megatron growled warningly, forcing one massive leg in between the much slimmer, less armored once of his captive. His wings mantled high to show his superior position off. 

"Open!" he demanded and pressed his leg against the apex of the smaller demons legs. Wanting to or not his captive arched and ground his panel into the offered stimulation, an enraged but plaintive sound escaping him. It was clear that he needed what was to come, but why? 

No he did not understand this being, this demon' but he wanted him. His sent was driving him mad, his voice could make an Angelica fall... 

"Open!" a shriek of rage ended in a moan, panel snapping back and a trail of lubricant immediately smearing on his plating. His in attention cost though, claws raking down his cheek plating to the top of his dermas energon welling in the superficial cuts. Grabbing the arm he forced it up and to bend, energon tainted claws nearly in his captive's face. 

"Lick them," the order was tense, for a long moment all was silent between them but then a silver glossa darted out and slid up one blue talon. He growled and released his own panel, using his free hand to shift the smaller demon slightly. 

"Taste your lord and master," he thrust in, brutally parting the walls of the tight valve. The small demon shrieked again, but this time the sound was one of pain tainted ecstasy and the sound twined beautifully with his own roar. Almost accenting it...

Bearing his fangs at the clearly infuriated mech under him he set a brutal pace. It did not prevent his captive from fighting him, and he gave as good as he got, shallow cuts welling with glowing life fluids.

The air smelled of molten metal, energon and interfacing. A strange battle indeed, but a sweet one that he could not conceive of letting go of... Not ever. 

Even when overload forced the smaller demon to part his chest plates he was fitting still, no weakness acknowledged, no surrender given. 

In that moment he knew hat this mech was his. Would be his till the end of time... His reward for being a faithful servant of Unicron. 

Taking the purple and blue spark was a battle too, fought with will instead of dental and claw. His prize was not giving in easily, refusing his place in the world with furious denial. But in the end he could not stand up to the power of a demon lord, defenses collapsing in a bright flash of anger and pleasure.

* * *

"Take it, pet," the energon dripping morsel was taken daintily from his talons despite the angry hiss his little Incubus greeted his words with. Of course that was half the fun about calling Optronix 'pet'. 

The slim demon kin was heavy with eggs, furious and beautiful as he sat at Megatron's pedes, golden chains circling his neck joint. Broad golden cuffs circled both wrists and ankles, little hooks on them gleaming wickedly in the flickering of fire light. 

Their relationship was anything but peaceful, at times it was downright vicious... But it was oh so enjoyable. All the more so when he realized that the little thing was what he had said he was... A special Creation of Lilithia, the Incubi, demon lord concubines. 

At least they were the last now, as well as hunted prey. Every lord, minor to major, wanted one... Optronix was looked upon with fervent envy and corverting clear enough that he could have punished for it. But he liked it... Oh yes, he liked how angry it made his little mate, his little pet. 

That anger promised such fights when they could finally mate again. 

Optronix hissed at him, clawing his shin plating none too gently and he took another morsel from the boiling cauldron beside his throne for him to gorge on. 

Soon... Oh yes, soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1 Dreamwaves, Demons, slash, wacked out demonology, biting, clawing
> 
> This is the second part! Enjoy…
> 
> Beta no one


	11. True Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chip is an old man, with a long eventful life behind him... he decided to share what he had learned about his Cybertronian friends with humanity.

# On the subject of the true monster inside

_A lot of people lable the Decepticons as ‘evil’ and the Autobots as ‘good’. They look upon this ancient conflict with the eyes of man, seeing only that one part destroy and does not care for humanity and the other cares so much that they are willing to die to save humanity. It is not so simple, not so black and white. You have been with me though this series of articles about a war older than humanity and a race older than the Earth itself. Now I will try and explain how and why both the deceased faction leaders carried a monster inside._

##### Article seventy five of the series ‘ **A Philosophical Study of the Cybertronian Great Civil War By **Chip Chase****

**The beginning of the divide between the factions**

On one side you had the Autobots. 

On the other side you had the Decepticons.

Once Cybertron had experienced a golden age like no other. There had been plenty; there had been joy, happiness, and development of art, science, philosophy... 

But every golden age will eventually decline into stagnation if it is not carefully tended and tempered. 

And nothing can survive the touch of stagnation. It warps, it tears, it renders and it ultimately makes everything crumble, leaving behind a husk of former glory. 

The golden age declined into a facade, a cover for a divide, a chasm between rich and poor, haves and have-nots.... Life and death. 

The great towers of the cities rose above the taint of the have-nots’, their noble inhabitants ultimately happy to live where the problems of the real world could not touch them. They had plenty, they had excess, and they had decadence. 

Under the towers lived those that had a lot. The merchants, the ones that catered to excess and decadence. 

Under them where those that got by. Servants, helpers, clerks... Those that were seen but not taken notice of. A part of the picture of a happily functioning society.

And then came those that barely eked by. They had work, dirty hard unceasing work... Even brutal at times. Dockworkers, miners, street cleaners... Small time street vendors, who barely made enough to get themselves through the orn. 

Lastly came the hopeless. The forgotten... Those that died on cold dark cycles and were found in the gutter when Hadeen rose. Those that starved to death while the nobles partied and wasted energon frivolously.

Slowly the world had moved from equality and happiness into a terrible caste system spiral that was killing Cybertron from the inside. And as the chasm grew so did unrest, the crime rate, the portion of mechs and femmes willing to do whatever was needed to survive just one more orn. 

The nobles were willfully blind, the merchants profited by the system, the ones that got by were merely sad and angry, but for a while happy to have something.

Those that eked by had no voice, and the forgotten? Not even the hope of a voice.

Rebellion against the caste system started among the ones that got by, they had just enough freedom from their work, just enough energy surplus to think, to remember. The governing body's solution to that thinking was to worsen their lives, raise the price of energon, claim there was a crisis… 

The chasm between the castes grew, and so did the unrest. 

Desperation is a powerful motivator. 

 

**Megatron, a short recap**

Megatron became the name of the rebellion. 

He was powerful and charismatic; he was one of the people. He had been wronged by the government and used by the nobles. In his work as a miner he had felt the injustice of the caste system on his own chassis, when he became a gladiator he saw the injustice as he rose above the caste system, outside it in one of the few ways that could be done. 

Fame could buy you a way into the towers… but never security, should you fall out of favor you would fall long and hard with little chance of survival. 

He saw it for what it was and rebelled against it, his voice gathered thousands, millions to his cause. 

His intentions were in essence pure. 

But along the way he warped, his rebellion warped. 

It became something that was still well intentioned, but which had lost sight of what differed it from the thing it fought.

It was a slow process. 

 

**Optimus Prime, a short recap**

Orion Pax was a nothing, a nobody with an inquiring processor. 

He lived in anonymity and he offlined in anonymity, but one mech saw a chance in him. 

A possibility… or maybe simply an available chassis. 

Alpha Trion’s intentions could have been pure, or they could have been an attempt at keeping status quo. He was old enough to know what the real golden age had been like, but he had also been a part of the governing body, the corrupt council. 

Maybe the old mech was lucky, maybe something greater guided his hand? The Matrix helped him reformat the dying Orion Pax, killing the dockworker and putting something else in his place.

A Prime. 

An innocently pure fighter who believed that they could regain the golden age. Who had a raw belief in the rights of everyone, every being, not only Cybertronians. 

His beliefs were in their own way as ruthless as Megatron’s belief that strength had the right to govern weakness. 

 

**When an ideal turns into a monster**

Both leaders were held up as the icon for their cause, and as time went on they warped further. 

Megatron seemed the monster, even fostered it. He was brutal on the battle field, brutal to his troops, ruthless… a killer. That was what his life had taught him, and he used it, forgetting along the way what his goals had once been. 

Optimus seemed the pinnacle of pure intent, of goodness, kindness… the embodiment of the golden age. 

The truth though?

Both of them were good from a certain perspective, and both of them contained a true monster. 

They had started out with a similar mission, to restore Cybertron. There had been minor differences of course… but all in all it had been, was, the same goal. 

Now, many eons later they were still facing each other on the battle field. 

Nothing had changed and yet everything had. 

Megatron was ruled by his ever growing lust for power, empowered and yet also defeated by it all at once. His once mission a thin cracking veneer badly hiding the cruelty and need for battle, for conquest. 

Optimus was ruled by his own morals, and they in turn were screwed. He took upon him all the deeds done by Cybertronians, regardless of faction mark. Somewhere along the way he cracked, and in the very deepest unconscious recesses of his processor he resolved that any being saved, no matter the cost to his dying race, was a victory… 

Neither mech served their people anymore. 

Their true monsters were taking over, and Cybertron and its people paid the price every orn.

* * *

Chip sat back, rubbing his weary eyes under his glasses. He had never expected to be in this position… an old man who had lived with and loved the Cybertronian Autobot transformers. 

He still loved them and it hurt his heart… his very soul to have to write this. 

Somewhere deep inside he was still the idealistic young boy who had tried his best to give aid to them. Who had looked up to Optimus, who had wanted nothing more but to give them back their world. 

And he also knew he had a lot to thank the ‘monster of moral’ inside the now gone Prime. Without it the Earth, humanity, would have been lost along the way, as other worlds had been. 

But he had to look at it from both perspectives, he could not do anything else. 

His knowledge of human history, Cybertronian history… his access to Vector Sigma and to the Decepticon prisoners. Sometimes he wondered if any of the surviving Cybertronians on either side ever stopped to think about what had happened to them, their race and their world. 

Not in terms of actual status, but the philosophy, the greater questions. 

Maybe it was too painful. It had certainly been for humanity during the Vietnam War, and even a good deal of time after. Any war in fact… 

He supposed that no one wanted to know that they were fighting a lost cause. And that it was doubly painful to a race that had no future but more battling. More dying… and ultimately extinction. 

What was it Jazz had said when his mate died?

‘No one, not one of us, wants to know what it will be like to be the last… I know now, and I wish I could lie down and offline too…’

He had not been speaking of Autobots only. Of course he was lost too, now, had joined his mate in the Well of Allsparks. Joined Optimus, Ultra Magnus, Prowl… 

Chip sighed and let his hands drop, staring at the last few words on the screen and the mockingly empty page under them. 

This was it. 

This was the story of a race so incredibly old they might stem from the very beginning of the universe. 

He felt so small, so young even though his body was frail and old. He felt like erasing all he had written, deleting the document forever. 

But it was something that deserved to be heard, a perspective on the beings that he knew and loved, seen by the eyes of a human who had learned wisdom and humility from them, as well as the pitfalls of evil and good alike. 

Hesitantly he reached out, hands hovering for a moment and then he added two last words. The finality he had debated all though his research; 

‘ _The End_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1/IDW/Dreamwaves/others, philosophical musings by a human, strictly not slash
> 
> This is an experiment of sorts, not really sure I succeeded… and no it’s not the last article he is going to write in the series. Or essay article… not really sure what you guys would call something like this ^^; (it is the last I will write though >.> just FWI, no plans about more!)
> 
> Beta :devakzeal: and Writer :heart:


	12. Zombie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Optimus died? What if Megatron decided to reanimate him... 
> 
> Dark fic warning, possible squick warning

Some part of him recognized that this was a disgusting act. But the power of dark energon warped him and he shoved the wrongness away, optics intend on the undead mech pacing restlessly in the room under him. 

Something had broken inside him when he realized that he had managed the impossible. 

Optimus Prime.

Permanently offline. 

Dead. 

A sparkless husk for him to command.

This was not something he had wanted. Ever. Oh, he had said it; he had sworn that it was his goal alongside conquering Cybertron. 

To bring down the Prime, the mech he had once stood side by side with. The mech who betrayed him by listening to the councils words. Who let himself be corrupted into a symbol of the wrongness of their society.

But the thing was that Optimus had never stopped fighting for their cause. He fought on their terms, the harder fight if you would… He, Megatronus, had taken the easy route.

Of course that was a simplification, as well as the thought alone was a sparkling of what clear sight brought. Now that he had done it, killed his friend… 

“Optimus,” the husk looked up at the sound, not because it was his name but because his ‘master’ spoke. It was revolting, for all that he had made Knock Out repair him before he reanimated him… maybe because of that. 

Pristine, gorgeous… a little bulkier than he remembered from when they were both younger and idealistic. But it was the optics that haunted him even in the grip of Unicron’s blood. 

Empty, glowing purple. They did not even see him, just staring in his general direction. And the mouth, the plump dermas he had once dreamed about kissing, just hung open. Sounds were occasionally made but they held nothing of Optimus tones, none of the life his voice had once held. No matter what the creature down there looked like it was not his friend nor his enemy. 

And yet… 

He should kill him. Megatron knew this, knew that keeping him a... alive? Undead? It was a crime against the mech this creature had once been, it was a disgusting unnatural act. 

But the thought of never seeing him again. Of seeing the chassis still, grey. Grey like he had been not that long ago, until he had Knock Out fix him and paint him, like a doll. 

Yes a doll. An empty vessel that would never be filled again. 

If he went down there and touched… there would be no return touches. If he opened the chest no pulsing spark would cast its light on his features. 

And Primus forbid it, should he attempt to interface it its valve would be dry and dead. It would be pure agony for him, and maybe he should do it, as a punishment for loosing himself in this conflict. 

Yes maybe he should do it, but he could not make himself actually do it. Could not even in this state manage to embrace the idea of further violating his once friend. 

Making him into this husk was as far as he could go…

Or was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFP, Dark fic, possible squick, zombie 
> 
> This is warped, twisted, I can’t say I really enjoyed writing it… chalk it down to fevered ravings >.> I do… 
> 
> Beta no one


	13. Insect Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hive needs a leader, a king 
> 
> A king needs a queen to be stable

The false queen had rattled the very structure of the Hive collective, losing their nominal leader in the absence of a King or Queen had rattled it further.

Hardshell had been a good Hive Lord but he was only a warrior, he had known it just as the rest of them had known it. His attempt at impressing the Decepticon leader had failed horribly and the Hive collective had lost their most stabilizing individual.

The opportunity of offering to make Megatron Hive King was wasted, but a desperate Hive collective did desperate things. The most important part was for the Hive to survive, and thrive, after all. It was not the first time that an unknowing mech had been converted to save a Hive… the process was even relatively easy as soon as the appropriate CNA nanobots had been implanted.

But with an unknowing and possibly unwilling mech the process was slow, the mech’s self repair battling the foreign nanobots at every turn. Often times a new dosage of nanobots would have to be administered.

Megatron was an incredibly strong mech, and the work was slower than any of the Hive individuals liked. They needed a leader in more than name.

As the conversion process progressed and the Hive became more and more in tune with the Decepticon warlord, they began scouting for his balance, his to-be queen. Noticing his reactions to the available mechs and femmes.

It was fast clear that the false queen was not to his tastes, a mercy that the ashamed Hive collective was more than thankful for. There were some far more favorable reactions to the small medic, which had a few Hive individuals in a tiff as there was a subtle competition between them for substituting his lost Hive member.

The eerie, silent spacer build would occasionally provoke a flare of interest but the Hive collective was reluctant to let a drone carrier become queen. There was no grantee that he would be able to bear individuals as well as drones. As general breeder that would be fine but not for the queen.

Seekers… they were natural breeders but the Hive king in-spa did not find either of the two available ones attractive, barely even showing enough interest for the Hive collective to consider them worthy as ordinary breeders. They would of course serve as that anyway, but the lack of interest made them effectively void for the position as queen.

The Eradicons would make for perfect ordinary breeders but they barely registered at all to the new Hive King.

The Hive collective almost despaired until during an ordinary battle they caught the scent of lust. Their king was pinning the enemy Prime to the ground, big chassis grinding together in the heat of battle.

It might have been the battle lust warping but not one of them had scented that happening from their new king before, not once. This had to be because of the Prime… which made it both harder and better for them to complete their Hive.

The Prime was a worthy queen of course; he was strong and stable, more than capable to match the king if physical tempering was needed. His subordinates would make for excellent breeders too, though they were leery of the femme after the incident with the false queen.

There was the minor problem of feeding nanobots to the enemy mechs but they worked quite well when inhaled by way of the cooling system and the continuous battles gave ample opportunity for creating situations that allowed members of the Hive to come near enough to use that method.

However that made it an even longer process than changing the Decepticon leader to suit the Hive collective's needs. and every battle was a chance to loose what they were attempting to gain for the Hive. The Collective did their best to keep their investments alive, even going so far as to steal and secret away the relics that might have given one or the other an advantage if they could.

In the mean time the change progressed, slow, halted, but inexorable... there was no way to fully stop it. Every change the nanobots made facilitated the work of the next dose they were able to administer. Even the medics would not be able to cure this, for it was not a sickness and it did not change the physical appearance.

Coding was changed though, even the very core coding. Allowing the instincts burrowed deep in all Cybertronans unprecedented access to reactions. It resulted in much more honest actions, thinking less in the way and more... more like an afterthought. At least as long as the newly reprogrammed mech was not collected into the Hive whole, and they knew better than to do that till the desired result had been reached.

And as it should the culmination happened the only place their desired leaders every truly met.

* * *

"Prime!" it was a battlefield like any other, a random piece of organic land. Dusty, grim, and devoid of the brilliance of Cybertronian nature. Something Megatron had found himself longing for more and more the past half groon... maybe longer than that even.

It was not the only thing he had longed for though, old wants rising to the surface like the late flotsam of his old existence. Things better forgotten, desires he had ruthlessly kept buried... wants that slowly seeped though his control as if they were a potent acid patiently working through sheet after sheet of armor.

He had been considering if he was going mad. For the first time ever as he chased the shreds of his dreams of a strong future he had truly considered if madness was perhaps the name of what governed his processor.

Unicron, it had all begun with that. He had thought that waking the old being, god?, would grant him the ability to regain what had been lost. The monster he had found and very nearly released upon the universe... But that was not the point. He had gotten a taste of his old friend, a mech he had desired but never approached. There had never been the right time for a romance in the middle of their planning. And even when he had had him back, innocently trusting, he had wasted the chance in favor of ambitions. Had not even seen what he had been handed.

No longer would it be denied. No longer ignored and pushed away, it was a constant throbbing pulse that permeated even his recharge cycles. A need so basic it seemed deeper seated than the need to keep his frame cooled, the need to take in fuel... even the need to stay online.

He _needed_ Optimus with every last line of code, every last dredge of his lifeforce. and not having him was driving him mad!

"Megatron," if he did not know better he would have thought he was hearing a faintly challenging growl in the tenor of the Autobot's voice. Megatron knew that he was not mistaking the tenseness of the powerful, lithe frame before him. Ready for battle...

However the change was there, noticeable even though he felt nothing should have changed. As the first blows fell he knew this was... something else, not a battle, not violence with little meaning.

But he did not know what to label it.

They were tearing at each other as savagely as they ever did, drawing energon and pained sounds, the usual fight it seemed. But it was not! Something else was going on and it drove him to dangerous distraction that he could not say what it was.

Only Optimus never took the chances to go too much past his weakened defense. Once he tore viciously into his left shoulder pauldron, but that seemed simply because his attention had been diverted by a shot from the young, new mech...

It was as heated as ever, as intimate in the way only fighting or... he had not even thought the sentence done when he realized what it was he truly wanted.

Where the realization should have caused him to pull away, or perhaps have enraged him, it simply made him sharpen his focus, try and interpret if it was what the other wanted too. Not that he was sure it mattered in the end.

Exchanged blows soon became wrestling, a contest of brute strength and less than subtle attempts at overpowering each other. They were so very evenly matched, only his age and time in the arena, where skill and luck were what kept you alive, allowed him to finally pin his opponent down.

Was there a first move? Was there a first kiss?

He remembered the cry when he thrust deep... silken heat welcoming him with plenty of lubricant to ease his way.

The roughness sated a need he could have never put words to.

And his Prime seemed no less enthusiastic for all the viciousness of the claiming. Even seeming to encourage it with growling, bites, and struggles that made it effectively impossible for Megatron to control himself.

* * *

Flexing long claws, he looked at the reflection staring back at him from the screens. They could have chosen to stay as they had been... but why bother?

In the back of his processor, the Hive collective murmured a constant note of contentment, the much stronger glow of happy satedness from his queen a bright heat beside it.

He curled his primary hands into fists and flexed his secondary ones. The monstrous reflection his perfect mimic.

Cybertron lay out there, and before him on the console was the means of their world's renewal.

This was a change.

Hope was a change.

What did it matter that they now looked like beings that had been feared once? They were all the same, there was no reason to fight.

_'Till all are one'_

The holiest words of Primus...

Made truth in the Hive.

Made perfect between his queen and himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFP, rewriting of CNA, non-con (understood in more than the rape manner), mating
> 
> Because I like the TFP insecticons a lot… a whole freaking lot :meow:
> 
> Beta AKzeal


	14. Dullahan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion is on a blind date...

The night was cold, the city lights dim... not the night Orion would have chosen for a date, but it was not really anyone's fault that rain and fog had decided to invade Kaon. The thick banks of moist, sight-robbing mist drifted in from the rust sea in endless rolling waves, not unlike the very waves that always moved the red waters of the ocean itself.

All in all he wished that he had said no to Dion... His big brother was too insistent for him though, and he was right. He never did go out, but clubs and bars were not him. Dancing the night away and getting drunk, well, he had tried it once and had found out that it was not worth it. Being groped by random strangers, purging in dirty, badly kept wash racks and onlining with splitting processor aches on the dawn of a new work day? He could live with no social life to speak of, not so much with the other things.

Office work required a certain amount of concentration after all, and even working at the dock itself was best done with a clear processor.

Shivering from the cold he pulled the thick folds of his mesh rain cover closer about his slight frame. He rechecked his chrono and huffed softly, he had of course arrived early and was paying the price with being cold and miserable.

Not to mention nervous as frag.

Dion meant well, he really did! But a blind date?

Just a movie and dinner, nothing truly fancy, or so Dion had promised him. Of course this was his beloved older brother, who had conveniently made sure not to tell him anything about this 'date' after he had tricked him into saying yes.

The blue and white older mech knew that Orion would not go back on his word once it was given.

In the end, it was not this mystery mech's fault that his brother was a manipulative fragger. He loved him and all but~

"Excuse me, are you Orion Pax?" he jumped and jerked around, nearly tripping in the folds of his rain cover, only to find himself face plate to lower part of a wide grey chest. Hesitantly he leaned his helmet back, unintentionally taking a good look as his optics searched out the other's face plates.

The optics were narrow and intense, the mouth curved in a smile very close to being a smirk... even the nasal ridge of the olfactory sensor was narrow. It was a handsomely proportioned face, well framed by the square-ish miner helmet.

He had never seen purple optics before.

"Uh, yes?" Orion swallowed, nervous and somewhat resigned. Well, at least his 'date' had sent someone to cancel for him...

"Your brother certainly did not lie! I am Megatronus, new to Kaon. Dion might have told you, I work at the energon refinery?" Orion shook his helmet once and blinked his optics on and off a few times.

"You, I mean... you are my date?" the smile slipped entirely into a smirk and the predominantly grey mech nodded.

"I am, come on now, no reason for us to stand out here in the cold!" Orion was too stunned to really think about answering and before he knew it they were seated inside the small holocinema's one show hall. It was warm and quite cozy, only a few other couples occupying the room.

"Honestly, I had hoped for more of a choice in movies, but I suppose this will be okay," Megatronus was peering a little dubiously at their tickets before he finally shrugged, and put them away. "I don't usually like things with organics, but there are exceptions... same with horror, really."

"W-what?" Orion crash landed mentally at the mention of horror.

"Yeah, well, it's not like they are showing anything else, and your brother mentioned how you loved that sort of thing," pressing his dermas together Orion vowed to sick the twins on his brother when he got to work in the morning. Pit, he would pay for a prank if that was what was needed!

While he did not mind organic movies, he did hate horror. And slasher movies, and anything with gore, energon, life fluids of any kind and just...

Maybe he should just kill him himself, it might just be worth it. He was going to look like a right little fool and a coward!

"Actually I don..." he broke off, biting his lower derma anxiously... He could do one movie, right? It was just a movie, and how very bad could it be...

 _Famous last words_.

* * *

It was absolutely _horrible_!

The title should really have told him that it would be horrible, but he had tried to stay optimistic.

 _When Death Comes Calling_.

Dear Primus, the whole movie was one big orgy of terrifying death scenes, red life fluids being sprayed around... or tossed.

As far as he had been able to watch, which was very little, there was this creature that was not the same as the other organics. It rode around on another organic that looked... unhealthy to say the least, carrying its detached helmet under one arm. Even to him the head looked halfway decomposed, organically rusted?

When people saw it they tended to run away screaming, but usually the creature would set after them and splash them with bright red life fluid, and later it would chase them until they ran into a horrific but seemingly 'natural' death.

At first, he tried to offline his optics whenever something ewwy happened. But it was not always possible to hear what was happening so instead he tried covering his optics with his hands, peaking out between his fingers when he was not sure if something bad was happening or not.

Somewhere around the third gory death a big, heavy arm moved across his back and the larger mech bent down to whisper into his audio receptor.

"You don't like horror, do you?" Orion peaked out between his fingers and whimpered as noiselessly as he could shaking his helmet as he re-shielded his optics from the goings-on on the screen.

He eeped, somewhat louder, when he was picked up, and cuddled against warm chest plates.

"Your brother is a right little aft helmet, isn't he, I suppose I should thank him anyway," the rumble was somewhat amused but also very, oddly, soothing. He fancied he could feel the vibrations in the wide chest plates.

It felt... safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1, bling date, fluff
> 
> Beta AKzeal and people on Titanpad <3


	15. Dragon/Reptile Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mashup of different fairy tales I grew up with, starring Megatron and Optimus

Once upon a time, there was a little Prime, first born Creation to a great Magnus and his gentle beloved Supreme.

The little Prime was beautiful even as a sparkling, and with every upgrade his beauty blossomed further.

Unfortunately, the Prime was a Carrier himself, and so unable to take the throne after his Sire, the Magnus. Everyone loved him, but they knew the reason why, and sadly had it confirmed when the time of his tenth vorn Creation day neared.

His Carrier had been with spark again, only a few groon from the spark splitting, when something went wrong and the little Prime lost his Carrier and his unsparked brother.

It was a time of great sorrow to the kingdom, a time of fear and uncertainty.

The Carrier had been a good Supreme, kind and gentle to peasant and noble alike, and he was greatly missed.

And it left the kingdom with no Heir-Prime.

On the little Prime's tenth vorn Creation day, marking the halfway point in his journey towards adulthood, he received many gifts. Some were from the people, rich and poor alike. Somewhere from other Magnuses and Supremes who hoped that the Magnus might consider an alliance bonding... or, if they knew already, hoped to have one of their second or their sire Creations bond himself to a kingdom.

Among the rich gifts from outside the kingdom was a box. It was incredibly beautiful, and drew the optic of any onlooker, and also that of the little Prime.

As part of the celebration he was to choose a gift to open and of course he chose that precise one. He took it from the pile and carried it to his little throne that stood so lonely by his Sire's on the raised dais. Settling down he slowly lifted the lid, savoring the surprise of what might be found inside.

His gasp of delighted surprise had all the nobles titter and stretch to see, a few even tip-peded in hopeless curiosity.

No one had to wait long though, as the little Prime reached into the box, and brought out his gift.

It was a tiny jeweled snake.

Brilliantly ruby red, the shine of highly polished onyx and dark but not tarnished silver. And it was very much alive, eagerly coiling around the little Prime's wrist like a living bracelet.

At first, everyone was alarmed, but as nothing happened, and the box was discovered to contain the most beautiful silver, youngling jewelry in the same colors as the little snake. It was considered a curiosity instead of a threat.

Who would harm the beautiful little Prime after all?

* * *

Time went by as time is wont to do.

The beautiful little Prime grew-up, and still he only became more and more beautiful with each upgrade.

But as he grew so did his snake.

At first it would coil around his wrist. Then around his forearm. Eventually it had to move to coil around his shoulders and neck.

Every time it grew so did the chest and the treasures in it.

When the Prime became fifteen vorn old it was so big it could curl around his berth three times, and that was where it was always found, tail tip resting on its chest of treasure. And the chest was spilling over with gold, silver and sparkling jewels... not to mention the most fragile and beautiful jewelry any Prime had ever worn.

By the time the Prime, radiantly beautiful, turned twenty vorns the snake was so big it had to coil itself around the tower where his rooms laid. No servant would go past the beast, now dubbed the lindworm, for its jaws dripped with acid and they feared they might be eaten or killed horribly.

Inside the tower the treasure filled the entirety of the ground floor, spilling out of the door where the lindworm rested its huge head.

There was now only one vorn till suitors could ask for the Prime's hand in marriage. Already dignitaries flocked to the kingdom to vie for attention, to give extravagant gifts and try to maneuver a bonding contract into being before anyone else could arrive.

The Magnus, however, was indulgent of his only sparkling, and refused to sign a contract no matter what he was bribed with. Of course, he also wanted the best mech to succeed him, and take care of the kingdom and its people.

Fear of the lindworm grew, and the groons slipped by.

On the Prime's twenty-one vorn Creation day something terrible happened...

A foreign dignitary from the great kingdom of Simfur was found dead near the lindworm, terrible acid burns made him near unrecognizable. The acid was the same bright green of the poison dripping from the monster's jaws.

The celebration ball that dark cycle was grim indeed, the Prime was angry that his beloved pet and protector was being accused of killing the dignitary, when no one asked what the dignitary had been doing by his tower in the first place.

It only got worse from then on though, for the Magnus rose to announce that any Sire Prime who could end the monster and the threat it represented would win the kingdom and the beautiful Prime.

So unlike the Magnus, but no one questioned it either, too relived that the monster would now be killed.

But the Prime jumped up, angry and afraid, swearing that he would not bond to a murderer, before he ran to his tower and locked himself inside it.

The court was shocked but the Magnus did not relent, even more determined now to have the monster killed.

Soon enough the Primes began arriving.

Some tried to kill the lindworm on their own; others brought warriors with them to do the dirty work for them. Some hired mercenaries, for as long as that could be done.

You see, nothing seemed to bite on the though silver armor, or the red rubies and polished onyx armor scales.

The monster was invincible and the Prime refused to come out of his tower.

Now the Magnus regretted his rash decisions, that he had not listened to his Creation. But it was too late. He could not take back the challenge, or the promised reward... mech after mech died as the groons trickled by and it became harder and harder to find anyone willing to attempt to save the willful Prime.

What worth was a kingdom and all the beauty of the world if you would die trying to reach it?

The Magnus sat every dark cycle in his study; he would look out the window upon the tower where he had unwittingly imprisoned his beloved Creation, look upon the lindworm guarding it and ponder if it really had been it that killed the dignitary or if he had been tricked.

One such dark cycle he was almost falling into recharge in his study chair when he saw someone in the room with him, partially blocking the view out the window. He struggled to wake fully, to see the intruder clearly but he could not.

"W-who..." even his voice failed him.

"I can rid you of the monster, and give you back your Creation, great Magnus," a deep voice rumbled from the shadow.

"..." the Magnus shook his helmet.

"All you have to do is swear to me that you will indeed give me the reward of the fair Prime's hand and your kingdom," he hesitated and then nodded.

"Listen carefully then," the shadow moved closer, but became no less clear. "Tomorrow the twin moons rises on the first orn of dual full moon. At noon during the light cycle you will place two big tubs on the field before the tower. One you will have filled with lye and the other you will have filled with the life fluids of a newly slaughtered wireox. Secondly, you will have the wireox's chassis melted down and a nine tailed electro-whip constructed from the remains which you will place between the tubs. Third and final task you must have a robe made from the finest gold and silver embroidered silkmesh, this you will hang on a pole beside the whip. You will do the same the orn after and the orn after that. And not one mech must watch the field in the dark cycle for any of the three dual full moon orn! By the end of the fourth orn your kingdom and your Creation will be free..." 

The shadow only waited for him to nod and it was gone, with it it took the sleepiness and the Magnus hurried to order the tasks done. Hoping against hope that this insane dream might be the truth...

* * *

That selfsame dark cycle the beautiful Prime dreamed of a peaceful lake. He was sitting on the grassoid covered bank. In the blue green sky Hadeen shone bright and cheerily down upon the glittering red water.

Flying Creatures danced in the clear sky, mechainsects flittered from brushcrystal to treecrystal and the trills and calls of what must be thousand of seen and unseen beings created beautiful, natural harmonies for him to listen to.

Oddly enough his back was warm resting against something solid. And when the solidity moved he knew it was another mech, and yet he was not afraid for he had dreamed such dreams before, while he grew up and he knew the one behind him, though he had never seen him.

"Tell me, little Prime, do you still want to meet me?" the rumbled question made the Prime smile, the endearment warming him as nothing else had since his willing imprisonment.

"Yes, kind sir, as I have always wanted to!" and as he never could in his dreams.

"If I told you how, would you do it no matter how scary and awful it seemed to be?" the Prime bit his derma, knowing that one had to be careful with such promises. But... he wanted to meet his dream mech. The one mech who had never cared about his riches, his rank or what all that usually meant to others.

"Yes... i-if it meant meeting you, finally? yes... anything," he nodded to himself not regretting the promise at all!

"Good... then listen closely, fair one."

* * *

The moons bathed everything in their ethereal light, shining brightly on the odd collection of items set in the middle of what had become a killing field.

They were the only witnesses when the door of the tower opened and the Prime stepped out. As the fair mech stepped forward he reached out to his guard and the lindworm lowered its massive head to touch him with its nose. Then they both proceeded to the tubs.

Once there, the Prime took the crude whip with shaking hands, turning to his long time pet with guilt in his large blue optics. But the lindworm simply lay there, waiting, and allowed the Prime to whip it.

Almost at once the armor split and ripped, fluid welling up, hissing into the crysgrass, stinging the Prime's armor where droplets of it hit him. But he bravely continued until he had swung the tool one hundred times.

Sobbing quietly he found the largest tear as he had been instructed and reached inside to pull out a heavy smooth... thing. It squirmed in his arms and felt gross and sticky to touch, but he carried it, staggering under the weight to the tub of lye and put it in.

Then he retrieved the whip once more and counted out another one hundred hits. Under the tool the unpleasant shell grew brittle in the lye and finally crumbled into the liquid.

Again the Prime lifted the result up, feeling sick to his core as the now dark mass did not move, and put it in the tub of life fluids. There he used his hands to make sure the gross fluid touched every inch of the thing, before taking it out and covering it with the fine silk robe.

Once done he collapsed by it and sobbed spark brokenly. Fearful at what he had done to his faithful pet. Terrified that it would not go as his dream mech had said.

But when the moons touched the horizon he felt the touch of a smooth snout to his helm and could once again embrace his pet's massive head.

Only it was not as massive, nor as roughly armored as it had once been.

* * *

Two more times the Prime had to toil and sob through torturing his beloved pet. Hating every astrosecond, but trusting the promise of a mech he had known for as long as he had had the pretty jewel toned lindworm.

As the third dark cycle dwindled, the moons slowly setting he fell into recharge against the silkmesh covered still remains of the lindworm.

He was woken by the kiss of Hadeen's light, on his cheek plating. Still curled against...

Optics slowly onlining he found himself looking into a pair of ruby optics. The same ones he knew so well from his sparklinghood and up through all his life. But they were no longer huge, no longer set in an unmechly set of face plates.

Instead their owner had a handsome, very mechly visage. Strong jawline, straight olfactory sensor... everything but the optics so very unfamiliar and even alien to him for all that they should be far more familiar than the snake head of his beloved pet.

"I am free," the voice he knew, the voice of his ever unseen dream mech. The one who had told him that all of this would save his beloved pet from death.

"L-lindworm?" he wanted to reach up and touch, but he could not, dared not for fear that this dream vision might dissolve...

"Yes, my Prime," the thin but shapely dermas twitched into a smile, almost as if they were not used to moving at all.

"You freed me, you defeated the monster," the mech continued, "I am yours if you will it, as you are now free of your own Sire's promise," the Prime could only stare, spark pulsing fast, like that of a little flying creature.

His?

A small broken sound left the beautiful Prime before he finally reached to pull his dream mech's helmet down so they could share a kiss.

* * *

The lindworm Sire- Prime did not come without gifts. The treasure that had grown alongside his monstrous chassis had not disappeared, and they could have bought him his very own kingdom.

The royal bonding saw a blessing from Primus himself, a spark conceived on that very dark cycle.

And they all lived happily ever after...

_Randle rigle run,  
Now this story is done!  
Wiggle wobble win  
And so another may begin..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU, mangled fairy tale, sappy love
> 
> Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session ;)


	16. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it is harder to live on...

It was a ghost.

Many an orn he would walk the streets of new Iacon, talking with citizens who recognized him even this long after the war was over. Humbling and in a manner frightening.

He had left the responsibility behind after all, given it over into the hands of his successor, competent and capable in a way he no longer was. Some, very few to his surprise, had called him a coward for giving up his rank and status. They had been silenced quickly, told that 'he deserves to rest now that it is all over'.

Spark warming indeed.

And a lie. He was a coward.

But not in regards to the responsibility. As he took up his old work in the archives, went back to his old name, he supported and helped his successor. The mech was much too young... but he had been too young too. And at least Rodimus Prime was leading in a time of peace.

Maybe not fair, but had life ever truly been fair to anyone? He had certainly never experienced such a thing as fairness...

Fate though... he had carried the burden of that for longer than he wanted to remember.

Somehow he had hoped for it to stop, hoped for his old life back when he gave up his power, his title. But that had not happened.

Mechs stopped him to tell him 'thank you', and it was 'Prime' that fell from their dermas. Never 'Optimus', never 'Optronix'¨.

But that was only part of it.

Memories... He could have had them purged, he might even have been able to have his former chassis back. Or something very much like it. He had not dared to try.

Yes, cowardly, again.

He did not believe that the Matrix had fully let go of him, and he thought that changing his chassis would have been met with resistance. Or utter failure.

As for his memories...

How could he allow himself to forget?

So many had, mechs he had known, even some of those he had fought with. They had thought it better to purge the war, the killing, the losses from their memories and start anew.

And who was he to tell them no? He had lost so many that way, so many he had thought of as friends and family. But he did not feel like he could do it, like he was allowed to. Someone should remember.

But it was a moot point. He was not allowed to forget, ever.

That was the price that the Matrix had stated when he gave it up.

And it was a price he would have paid anyway. He could not allow himself to forget, however much the memories haunted him.

It was what had made him, shaped him... reluctant, without choice.

So he lived with it.

His ghost, Megatron.

The ghost of memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1, after the war is over, Optimus returning to a life he cannot quite reclaim.
> 
> Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session ;)


	17. Robot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatronus is an aft, but is forgiven...

"What is this?" Orion looked at the box, somewhat sceptically, of a gift riddled with little holes.

"You will have to unwrap it to find out." The smugness in the deep voice was something he knew well, but Megatronus usually only sounded like that when he was well pleased by something. So the gift had to be something very special... possibly rare and expensive.

Orion huffed and sent the councilor a halfsparked glare. Since he had agreed to date the mech nothing seemed to deter the flow of gifts and delicacies...

He had said, and asked, even begged a few times, for the mech to treat it like any other courtship. Megatronus had told him that this _was_ how a courtship was supposed to be...

Smug fragger.

Lovable all the same though. Loving, gentle, caring... everything he seemed to be when one saw him on the holo screen or heard a broadcast on the public comm. system. He truly lived up to his promises and did everything he could to better the everyorn lives of the workermasses he had once been one of.

Orion did not know all, of course, Pit! He barely knew the mech yet for all the time they had spent together. He had been so shocked when Megatronus asked him out the first time... he had not thought to ever see him in person again. Not after the chance meeting on the Well rift orn.

But Megatronus had hunted him down and made sure that he could hardly say no to his asking for a date. And one date had become many dates.

And many dates led to a relationship. Which led to an anniversary.

With a gift the size of, well, of him.

"Open it," he glared at the other for a little longer, just on principle, but then walked to the box and searched out the release catch.

Catching the loose side, he guided it down to the floor, hearing a distinct whirr behind him. A quick glare confirmed that Megatronus was enjoying the unwrapping in his own way. Orion huffed but could not help smiling when he turned back to peel the layers of protection away from the contents. 

If he was doing it a bit slowly, and with a little more... bending over and hip swaying than was strictly necessary, well? Had his dear councilor not asked for it?

Finally he peeled the last layer of wrapping away and looked into a face. Well, a mask. The facial plates were pale white, the visor had a red taint to it. He frowned uncertainly and pulled more wrapping away. A chassis became visible but there was something... wrong with it?

It had no vents that he could see, for one thing, and the armor seemed odd without the transformation seams that littered the frame of any ordinary Cybertronian.

It did not look alive at all.

"What _is_ this?" uneasily taking a step back, teasing forgotten, he stared at the strange non-mech.

"It is a robot, the newest rave in the towers," Megatronus sounded concerned and not a moment after the words strong arms wrapped around Orion from behind.

"You don't like it, do you?" he leaned back into the warm chassis, enjoying the clear sign of life and the vibrations of the deep voice.

"I don't... know? It seems dead," he paused, a slight shiver passing through his plating.

"No harm, lovely, I can have it returned," the soothing tone had a... a...

"You fragger!" Orion turned around though he did not manage to break free, "This was some sort of, of... _test_?"

"Not quite, I do have a real gift for you... for tomorrow, on our actual anniversary," Megatronus looked very serious and Orion could feel his anger cool, "I however needed to see your reaction to this, since the towers are asking for the right to import it. It is a cleaning droid that the Traxians build. A robot," Orion might not be into politics so much but he knew what such a thing would mean for the poorer mechs. Those that served the nobles as cleaners, blenders...

"That is... unnatural, why do they want robot drones to do a mech's work?" as soon as the question was out he knew the answer himself. Less cost, no need to really feed it... no need to be polite to it.

"Never mind... can you stop it?"

"I will certainly do my best, love, now... let me make this up to you, I have a whole flask of Ice Fire and a tub that can be full in a little over a breem?" Despite the fright and the concern Orion could not help but burst out laughing.

"You are impossible!" but of course he was more than willing to be led away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1-ish (same as Octomonster), war never happened, Orion met Megatronus and love happened, slash implied
> 
> Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session ;)


	18. Alien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion attends his first ball.

There were so many, many mechs here. Councilors, nobles, rich merchants. Orion felt utterly out of place for all that Soundwave, Megatronus' faithful assistant, had coached him in preparation. He was still a wreck of nervous energy and almost unable to keep down the few swallows of energon he had managed to take.

Megatronus was glued to his side, or maybe it was the other way around, but he had work. As he had warned Orion, these parties, for all their glitter and glam, were work. You cemented alliances here, showed off your wealth, and were courted on the basis of said wealth.

In contrast to most here Megatronus showed very little of his wealth, but he had always been the odd one out. Unashamed of showing where he came from, what he had battled against.

It was the reason why everyone loved him so, from the press to the poor. Well, not everyone, the nobles were not in love with his charisma as he made sure to curb their attempts of gaining wealth when it threatened Cybertron's internal economy and the stability of its society.

Orion still did not feel like he belonged here. Where Megatronus had no wish to deck himself out in riches he had no trouble doing the same to Orion and the jewelry, while tasteful and stylish, made him feel odd.

Before dating the councilor he had had exactly one piece of jewelry, a bracelet cuff he had gotten from his Creator. It was in platinum and set with tiny stones of red and blue. His lover, even thinking it while here made him flush hot, had seen it and ordered a set of matching jewelry for it.

That was the only reason he had decided it was time for him to be more a part of the councilor's duties. Megatronus had not demanded it in any way, but he had seen how happy the offer had made him.

Now if only his tank would settle...

"Verrry prrretty," he nearly jumped before turning to the source of the oddly accented speech. Clearly Cybertronian but... oh.

Orion stared wide opticked at the strange being before him. It did have armor, but it was not made of any alloy he had ever heard of.

"Suits you well, was good make!" he blinked his optics on and off and then tried for a polite smile.

"I-I'm sorry, I mean... thank you?" way to put his pede in his mouth!

"You satisfaction with item?" the hand was very... alien, six long multi-jointed fingers reaching for his left wrist. He did not want to cause a scene and let the strange... being take his arm. Only when it was lifted to where the multi-faceted optics could properly see it did he realize that it was his cuff the other was interested in.

"Did not make, verrry prrretty! Good make, good make, did best to match new items. Only saw picturrres of this," the fingers tapped on his cuff, making an odd sound that told him that the other was not made of metal.

Oh Primus...

"Uh... I..." what was he to say to the mech, the... the alien? He had never thought that he would actually get to meet a _real_ alien! And.... and...

"You made my new jewelry?" pede plus mouth, uhg! he sounded like a processorless fool, what a good impression to make!

"Did, did! Verry interrresting prrroject, neverrr worrrked Cyberrrtrrronian beforrre," the alien clicked his, his mouthparts? together to create a staccato like noise. Orion could not tell if it was amusement or excitement.

"Want to meet rrreciverrr! You verry prrretty mech, fits jewlerrry verrry well."

Orion had no idea how to respond to that, he knew what the alien meant but...

"Ah there you are, Orion, keeping master Therrrmasin company?" the heavy warmth of Megatronus arm was very welcome and saved him from attempting another answer.

"Master, it is good to see you again so soon, and did I not speak the truth? My mate is a fine showcase for your skill," Orion flushed hot, he was not sure if it was being termed 'my mate' or the mortifying experience of being called a... a... what was he being called?

The alien trilled and gestured broadly.

"You do me much glorrry! Yourrr mate farrr exceeds my trrrinkets in beauty," the smaller mech made a few weak noises whenever someone glanced at him but otherwise kept out of the confusing conversation.

Megatronus took him aside, into a small nich where he could sit down for a little when the alien wandered off into the crowed again.

"Are you okay, love?" no... no he did not know if he was!

"I'm fine... just confused," and a little bit snappish. Orion flushed again and looked down at his hands, fingers playing with the stones on his original cuff.

"I am sorry, master Therrrmasin is a little bit overwhelming if you don't know him or the customs of the Derragarrro hive clans. He meant no ill will, in fact he was paying you a very big compliment, they are very... ah, proud of their skills, and he clearly approved of you wearing his work," Megatronus seemed a little anxious.

"Also I apologize, I did not know that he would be here, I would have warned you..."

"It's okay," it was at least better now, with some background, with an explanation. "I think I am just a little overwhelmed... he's what again?"

"He is a master smith and noble of one of the biggest Derrragarrro hive clans in this sector of the gallaxy, love, they are here to negotiate mining rights. I simply availed myself of the master's presence here to be able to give you a proper anniversary gift... I did have to make sure you forgave me for the robot stunt I pulled on you," and there was that annoying smug smirk again.

Orion kissed it away, just because...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1-ish (same as Octomonster), war never happened, Orion met Megatronus and love happened, slash implied
> 
> Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session ;)


	19. Cyclops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pain makes for prissy assassins...

The first clue that something was amiss was the mechs running, yes, his big bad Decepticons could run on occasion, from the throne room.

Second clue was that Soundwave and Shockwave were both among the running mechs. Well, they kept it to a more dignified pace but they were still retreating with their proverbial tails between their legs.

Only one mech could make the upper echelon of his army run, or at least walk very fast, and he had not been expecting him home for several orn yet. Of course returning early from a blotched mission would explain a mood fit to make others run for their lives.

With good reason.

"Orion," the doors were still open and he saw his mate the moment he stepped though them, curled up on the seat of his throne. Almost huddling. His side of the bond was closed tight, something that usually meant his little lover was in pain.

Or very, very angry at someone. Possibly both.

"Your army is full of incompetent fraggers thinking with their interface hardware!" the snap rang out without the smaller mech even moving. Megatron huffed quietly, a smile stretching his dermas, maybe not the wisest of expressions right now but...

"I hope you hurt whoever it was," or he would have to, he could not have mechs trying to rape his mate. But there was not that much of a chance that the mech had not been hurt, if he was even alive still. Orion's punishments had a habit of being swift and on the point of a nasty poisoned daggers.

"He's dead, and he wasn't one of ours..." the snap was gone, almost at least, the voice cool and collected now, "rapists tend to not gather under you, but your mechs are still ruled by their fragging hardware!"

Megatron nodded and finally walked to his throne, kneeling by it and resting his elbow joints on the arm rest.

"Go away!" the snap was back, but it wavered this time, a note of pain and uncertainty in it.

"No," patiently he stared at his huddled mate and eventually the block on the bond lifted a little bit. Enough so that he could perceive pain, anger and embarrassment.

"What happened?"

"Fragger got me good, is what happened," the sneer dripped poison, just like Orion's weapons did.

"And Hook hasn't seen you yet?" of course he had, that was the reason for the bad mood, but he knew how to play this out.

"Don't have the part needed," growl, lovely growl. Almost the same tone he used when being teased in berth.

"Stop hiding, lover," the wave of miffed pride reaching him when the block fell was accompanied with Orion finally sitting up.

Ah... the ugly gash stretched from upper derma, all the way up to where face plates met helmet. The shattered optic was dark and looked hollow beside its angrily glowing red twin. 

"My little Cyclops, what happened? Did Shockwave offer you a temporary compensation patch?" Orion bared his little dental fangs at him and Megatron leaned forward to kiss him. When he pulled back his dermas were bleeding, but he was chuckling and Orion was in a much better mood.

"Don't call me that, and yes... yes he did, the fragger! Had the audacity to think I would even allow an uplink with anyone but you!"

"Spread your legs, Orion," Megatron moved to be in front of the throne, lowering his helmet towards the already hot panel.

"You have nothing but your hardware on your processor either!"

Megatron grinned at the snap and licked the panel slowly before replying.

"Of course not, my little Cyclops, how could I with you home?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU (same as A Flipside), slash, implied killing
> 
> Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session ;)


	20. Satyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting of destined lovers...

The crystals sang their frail song under the light of the twin moons. All mortals were deeply in recharge or huddled over whatever task they needed to do in the deep of the dark cycle.

They knew that a dark cycle like this was a magical one...

* * *

Laughter and trills rang out, lithe forms of different sizes dancing in the clearing. An energon spring bubbled in the middle of the roughly circular space. A small stream fed by it running along the ground, disappearing among the crystalbrush, its calm clucking swallowed by the denseness of the forest.

It was clear to see that they were not mortals, their armor colors shimmering with the gleam of crystals.

Nymphs, Crystal dwellers.

It was the coming of spring that had them so gaily dancing, for they were the ones to bless the land with fertility. Mortals would leave energon out for them out of respect and hopes of a plentiful harvest.

Of course the nymphs only drank the energon from springs such as the one they were dancing about now but there were other magical mechs that readily took the gifts, and usually paid for them in one form or another.

But the ones the nymphs were waiting for, dancing for, were the ones that made the springs well from the ground.

The great satyrs, who could make any ordinary spring flow with high grade if they so wished.

The mates of nymph kind.

One of the nymphs was not dancing with his kin, instead he was settled cross-legged at the little stream of energon. Once in a while he would dip his hand into it and drink it, licking his fingers clean.

Predominantly blue and red plating sparkled in the moonlight, showing that his crystal tree was healthy and that he was primed for the event to come. He was a young Nymph, though it was not his first season.

There was just something in the air this time... like an invisible shivering tone. He felt it in his spark, in the very root core of his home tree. It was a feeling he could not ignore and which made him unable to immerse himself in the joyful dancing...

It made him restless, but it was not a restlessness that made him want to do anything. So he sat there and he drank energon, fighting the lethargy that followed along with not moving...

The moons neared zenith overwhelmed, the smaller one moving behind the bigger one. Soon it would be completely hidden and the satyrs would come to claim their mates or lovers. This was the season that everyone loved... he loved it.

So why was he so very restless this time?

Nothing was different that he knew of. The moons would meet and under them satyr would meet nymph, creating the seeds of new nymphs and sometimes the sparks of new satyrs. With the energy of creation they ensured fertility to the crystal forest and the lands surrounding it.

Dipping his hand back into the stream he noticed the change immediately, the slight charge of the energon had increased and when he lifted his hand up to lick at the fluid it was much thicker and richer in taste.

High grade...

Someone at the edge of the clearing screamed, not one of fright but still a scream. Several others screamed too, and giggles broke out as the dancers scattered to all winds, running from the 'threat' of their soon to be lovers.

He too got up and ran, the lethargy lifting a little as anticipation grew. Restless or not he had looked forward to this! A whole spring season of lovemaking... Who could not be happy at that prospect?

Soon the crystal forest was filled with giggling and shrieks of joy, the rougher growls and deeper laughter of the satyrs too. A well known and much beloved game before they got... 'serious'. As serious as any nymph or satyr ever got at least...

Optimus could not find the same joy in the game he usually did, a sense of anxious anticipation mixing with the never abating restlessness.

It was like he did not want to be caught. Which made no sense, he had been looking forward to this all through the three seasons, just as all others... It was what they lived for after all.

A large satyr was following him, sending a hot thrill through him despite his odd misgivings. Grey and black plating, patches of blood red... fleeing from him, as he should, Optimus only got a rare glimpse of his persistent pursuer.

Handsome, dangerous... everything a nymph could want.

And he did want him, more and more for every time he ducked away. The restlessness finally dissolving, the anticipation growing and any misgivings melting away.

Carefree, he felt carefree again, anticipation a hot, heavy knot low in his chassis.

The want to be caught restored but different from the one he had known most of his existence. He did not want to be caught just to couple with a random lover, no... he wanted this satyr, the one so doggedly hunting him now.

But he did not want to make it easy, and his coy giggles were as much a taunt as they were an expression of his joy.

"Got you!" the growl was as heavy as the chassis finally pinning him down. Optimus made no effort to protest the statement, instead arching into the heavy weight, letting his panel open. His captor made a sound that he could not name and he felt the hot, thick length of his arousal penetrate his valve.

It felt perfect! Brought such bliss, but this was only the beginning and he found himself yearning for the end. Not the overload but the brief coupling of their sparks that would, that might, kindle a new spark for a seed or a satyr youngling. He was not used to wanting that part in this manner... was not used to wanting the end of an interface at all!

Nymphs were creatures of immediate pleasure. He was wanting a different kind of pleasure from what he was already receiving, it bordered on the unnatural.

The powerful chassis atop his felt utterly fantastic, heavy only because his captor wanted to keep him pinned. Even though a nymph caught would stay with the satyr taking him for at least an orn, most satyrs still enjoyed making sure their prizes could not run.

Driving into him with harsh, fast thrusts, his captor drove them both towards the peak and Optimus grasped for it with unaccustomed eagerness.

It crashed in a blinding series of ravaging waves, and the satyr pulled out long enough to turn him over. Optimus felt his thighs slicken with their mixed fluids, moaning when the larger mech pushed into him again.

A bare glimpse showed him dark face plates before his own pouty dermas were claimed.

He could not wait any longer and parted his chest plates with a pleading whimper, all but silenced by the kiss. A pause greeted his forwardness but the satyr did not reject his offering.

The merge was unlike any he had had before, slow and deep rather than fast and shallow.

Megatron? Yes, the satyr... his?... his satyr was Megatron.

Optimus gave himself up with trustful abandon, putting his very life into the hands of Megatron. 

His restlessness finally settled and he felt the same relaxation in his satyr. The release of a tension that neither had been able to name or ignore. 

When they finally parted, optics truly meeting for the first time, there was only fondness in them, banked embers of desire and the barest kindle of love. Mortals called nymphs and satyrs fickle, and in a sense it was true… only rarely did a satyr find his mate, and only rarely did the nymph allow his spark to be caught. 

But the result of such unions was spectacular indeed.

* * *

Under the meeting of the twin moons, two sparks met and twined together. From the union two sparks were born, one a seed for a beautiful crystal tree, one to be a heavy presence in its Carrier's spark for groon to come.

And the union blessed the lands and the crystal forest with boundless fertility.

Rare as a spark mating was, it was equally powerful.

Optimus the nymph danced his dances only for Megatron the satyr from that orn forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA, mangled mythology, destined lovers
> 
> Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session


	21. Canine Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A werewolf scents its perfect mate...

The blue and red werewolf sniffed the cool night air and growled, a short harsh sound. He had been following an alluring scent for orn now, and was finally close to the owner of said scent. But the mech was moving with a group of others.

Too many others. He could not afford to be seen by anyone but the mech he wanted, craved... needed. A whine built and he fought down the urge to voice it.

He wanted that mech! Needed him...

With both the moons full and bright in the sky it was almost impossible to resist the urge to go to him, take him.

He wanted him so badly, every whiff of the scent made his lines burn and his panel feel too tight. And he had not even seen him yet, just... just the scent, fit to drive a were to suicide...

It would be suicide to try and reach him.

The were squirmed, his cyberwolf form seemingly itching all over. Unrequited charge sending skitters of electricity over his armor. It was like being in heat but out of season, uncomfortable and powerful.

All because of a mortal and his scent.

Transforming, he waited at the edge of the camp, watching them delegate watch duty and tents. Optics seldom moving far from his prey, taking in the large frame, the dark grey, black and red of his armor. He did not understand their words entirely, but he understood that his target took up arms and trotted for the edge of the clearing.

Guard duty... he bit his lower derma, drawing a bit of energon. A chance...

It was hard to wait, he did not know how long their watches were but he had to wait!

Slowly the noises of the camp dwindled and the guards kept to their posts. Peaking out behind a crystal trunk he looked at the mech he had been following for so long. Up close he looked even more perfect! As perfect as his scent said he was...

_"You there!"_ he did not understand him but he understood the blade that was pulled from its resting place. Instead of running or trying to hide he stepped out of his shelter and knelt down. He put his hands on the dirt and looked up, trying to look nonthreatening.

_"Identify yourself,"_ the mech was not shouting, not alerting his comrades in arms. But neither was he moving closer, instead carefully observing the area around Optimus while keeping an optic on him.

While the words were so much babble the voice... oh, the voice! Thick, rich and deep.

Optimus slowly rose again, letting his panel open. Without shared words he figured that this might be the best way to do it. Mortals had morals and ethics they worried about far too much... he wanted the mech, the mortal, this was the best he could think of.

Who could reject another coming on to them with lubricant streaking down their thighs, spike jutting out, erect and near painfully hard?

Red optics traveled down his frame, as if they could not help the path they took. Maybe they could not, bared interface equipment was hard to ignore. They widened satisfyingly when they reached the bounty he displayed.

He took a step towards the mech.

_"Stay where you are!"_ the sword swung forward, sharp tip pointing at him, deathly promise gleaming in a bit of moon light. He did not need to know the language to understand the point, he did not need to understand the point to ignore it.

One more step, two, three, four... the tip was squarely pointed at his chest plates. He pushed the blade away, claw tipped fingers caressing the flat of it. He heard the revs of the other's engine, heard the whirr of cooling fans that could no longer be kept silent.

Optimus smiled, careful to keep his fangs hidden even as he stepped closer, close... chest to chest, mostly at least. His desired partner was a little taller and far more massive than he was.

The feel of warm plating made him moan, a hungry sound that had the mortal shiver...

He knew he had won, step by step he guided his prey back until his broad back met a crystal trunk. Being caught like that was all he needed for his dark panel to snap back, an impressive hard spike pressurizing.

With the aid of the crystal behind his mortal it was easy enough to mount him, a gratifying strangled cry leaving the mortal's vocalizer. He wanted more of that voice, was already addicted to it and its dark strut melting timbre.

The spike stretched him wide, filled him perfectly... matching the bulk of its owner perfectly. It was everything he had hoped for from the first scent mark, all that he had wanted, needed... longed for.

Pulling himself up by burrowing his claws deep in the crystal, he started to ride his prey. At first all he got back was inarticulate noises of pleasure, gratifying but hardly what he truly needed. Then the sword clattered to the ground and large hands with blunt, broad fingers closed around his hips and his movements were aided, lifting up... pushing down.

Growling his approving ecstasy he gave himself over to bliss. To kissing and feeling, to the movements of their mating. He had won after all, this was his prize.

He took as much as he dared from the mech. Two overloads... three for the mortal. His gestation chamber was full of transfluid, but his spark was not heavy. Out here he did not dare that...

But as he gave his mortal the last overload he bit into the vulnerable cables at the base of his throat column. Where the mark would be hidden from all, even from his still mortal lover.

Not this time. But soon their sparks would meet...

When next time the moons were full in the sky.

He could be patient, he would be with such a mate waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1/TFA, werewolf, slash, biting, topping from bottom
> 
> Beta Beta AKzeal and the nice people of my TitanPad session


	22. Feline Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optimus acquires a pet... or does he?

"Oh, it is cute!" Optimus lifted the massive grey cybercat out of the box Wheeljack had brought it in. His long time friend had been struggling with the size and weight of the box. In truth he had never seen such a huge cybercat before... not a tame one anyway. 

"Yeah... I sort of hope it likes you better than it does me, otherwise I don't know what to do with it," the scientist rubbed the back of his neck joint and opticked the cybercat somewhat nervously. It repaid the attention with a growl. 

Optimus put it down, figuring it might not like being held so awkwardly. 

"Where did you get it? I have never seen such a big tame one before," it was not just 'cute' it was gorgeous. Every line sleek, every movement graceful like only those of a cybercat could be. It was mainly grey, but had a few splashes of black and red here and there. Not any coloring he had seen before either, usually they were one solid color or a couple of shades of the same color. 

"I got him for an experiment; don't look at me like that! I was just supposed to test his intellectually with tests, you know? Walk the labyrinth; choose the right door leading to the glitchmouse, that sort of thing?" Optimus relaxed again, he should have known, Wheeljack would never abuse a creature. 

Except perhaps the glitchmice sacrificed for the cybercat. But that part he understood, cybercats were hunters and Wheeljack had had to feed it somehow.

"Fair enough, and now that the experiment is over you don't know what to do with it?" the scientist nodded and then huffed.

"I would like to keep him but he is impossible... he hates me, I think it might be the chemicals I work with, I smell of them you know? To him its probably horrible, but I thought you might like to have him? You have that big garden and everything, and everyone else I know live in the city. I don't think that would be the right place for him."

"I can try, I mean... I can't promise it, he, won't hate me too but, yes, sure I can keep him till he decides. Does he have a name?" the big creature was slinking about, sniffing his furniture delicately, mouth open to allow the scents to flow into his specialized scent components. 

"Will you? I mean... it's better than sending him to a shelter, and there is space here even if he hates you. You would be able to keep him till we could find someone he likes! You know they would put him down after a vorn or so in a shelter... uh and yeah, his name is Megatronus," belatedly Wheeljack remembered the request for a name. 

"Someone had high standards," Optimus laughed and shook his helmet, "it's fine, I will take good care of him even if he hates my internal components!" 

They shook hands and said their goodbyes, the busy scientist returning to his lab in the city and Optimus busying himself by putting away the items that Wheeljack had given him for grooming, feeding and the general care of a felidea.

He might not have had a cybercat before but he knew about them and found it easier to care for the large felidea than he had thought. Megatronus seemed only to need to be let out and in, and occasionally some help with cleaning. 

They adjusted fast, and the cybercat certainly did not hate him. The large felidea enjoyed napping with him, even recharging full nights atop the covers of his berth. 

The first groon ticked by, uneventful and easy.

* * *

"Uh..." Optimus squirmed and large hands took a firm grip on his hips, the raspy moist feel returning to his panel. Barely awake, he wondered when he had brought someone home to share his berth. 

He was too pleasure drugged and sleepy to really manage to think though, panel opening and allowing the stranger to lick his valve. 

Who even had such a rough glossa? Was he dreaming?

Did it matter? Primus knew it felt good! 

Moaning he allowed himself to just feel, to enjoy the licking and the overload. 

When he woke in the morning he felt utterly refreshed, his plating was clean and there was no lubricant on the berth. So he chalked the whole thing up to some sort of erotic half dream. Even if he could not think of a memory that would cause such a flux...

More time went by and the dreams became a reoccurring thing. Too reoccurring, too real... but it was very hard to be afraid of something that brought so much pleasure and caused him to recharge better than he ever had before. 

He did wish he was more awake, or less awake, he was not sure which one. Was his lover real? And if he was, why only oral? Why him at all? 

Then one orn Megatronus began acting up. In a manner of speaking of course, the cybercat was not destructive or anything. He just insisted on being near Optimus at all times, yowling angrily whenever he had to go to work or shopping and left the house. 

The felidea's temperature rose, but a single call to Wheeljack cleared it all up. The big cybercat was going into his heat cycle, nothing dangerous but possibly it would be very annoying.

As his pet got worse, the dreams got more intense. It was not something Optimus really noticed, as the dreams had become more and more intense in the time up to it already. But then something happened that made him uneasy about it again.

He half woke to the gentle laps of the rough glossa mewling sleepily with pleasure when suddenly the glossa withdrew and a large, sharp-tipped finger took its place. The glossa returned to lap around the finger as it was slowly thrust in and out of his valve till it was buried completely in him. 

It felt far better than only the glossa; it had been over a vorn since he had last had a lover. He had missed intimacy like this and... Overload took the rest of what thoughts he might have, and the second one swallowed his mind only a breem or so later. 

He could not ignore the soreness he woke up with this time...

On the other hand he did not know what to do about the realization that someone had been in his berth with him. Several times... His dream lover was all too real, and had suddenly become frightening. 

However it was not only fear the realization sparked, for his dream lover was gentle, caring... In all this time he had only given Optimus gratification, never attempted to take something for himself. Only giving... It was hard to panic entirely with that in processor. And he had never been able to lie to himself, not even when fearful.

Staying awake all the next dark cycle only earned him Megatronus intense and somewhat amorous attention, but no visit from his dream lover. And he could not stay online forever.

He managed about two orn and by then he was so tired he could barely hold recharge at bay long enough to lie flat on his couch.

The berth was soft and warm when he woke, a spot of extra heat beside him. It was as if his dream lover had moved him from couch to berth and then simply recharged beside him. That same night he went to his recharge like normal...

He woke to the touch that was so familiar, so wanted if he admitted it to himself. Sharp tipped fingers already moving in him, labored ventilation fans struggling in counterpoint to each other. It was somehow gratifying to know that his dream lover was affected in turn. 

"W... Mmm w-who?" it was the best he could do, the first time he had ever managed to say anything while his dream lover touched him. Only the driving need to know enabled him to speak now.

“No one,” the rumble was nearly a growl, but a pleased one. Spoken almost against his spike it made him ache up with a yelp. 

“Please!” it was as if the first word had broken a dam inside his processor. He could feel himself become more awake, if not more lucid as such. How could he become more lucid when his chassis was wrecked by pleasure so intense it could take away his sense of reality.

“I am no one,” the rough glossa dragged its way up his spike and Optimus screamed. This was far more intense than anything he had received from the other before. Or maybe it was the fact that he was not in that odd dreamlike state of processor anymore. 

“Y-you... cannot be n-no-one...” everyone was someone, and he was real, he knew now that he was real! 

His dream lover did not answer that, taking his spike into his mouth instead. The hard, relentless suction and swallowing set him off faster than ever. But unlike all the other times he did not fall back into recharge, instead feeling more awake and even energized.

“Hmm...” the mech moved up, leaning.... looming over him and he gasped when he noticed the familiar audio shells atop his helmet. 

Impossible! 

But... 

“M-Megatronus?” the cat mech licked his dermas and then grinned down at him, a feral expression that made his spark skip a pulse. 

“Hello, my little lover,” the deep purr was just as erotic and exciting as the grin. Optimus did not fight when his pet leaned down to kiss him. 

His pet... the Cybercat that Wheeljack had given him. 

“H-how...” he was silenced by another kiss. Megatronus did not allow him further thoughts, further words, making love to him in a gentle yet possessive way that left him aching and wanting for more.

* * *

That morning he woke in the arms of the cybercat turned mech. It frightened him and his bid at freedom woke his... pet? Dream lover?

Megatronus did not let him escape. A low growl sounded in his audio receptor and the well known rough glossa was dragged over it and up his finial. It made him giggle and then gasp, fear dying away. 

“Megatronus?” 

“You and your questions,” the purr was lazy, the movements of clawed hands and slim tail over and against his chassis equally as sedate. 

“I am your pet, yes, a Cybercat. I am also a shifter named Megatron. A werecybercat. That is why I displayed too much intelligence, why I was captured and sent to your friend Wheeljack. A good sort for all he kept me in a cage. Then he gave me to you, I intended to run but...” another lick, “you were too good to pass up on, I had to have you.” 

“H-have me?” 

“Mate you, make you mine,” another lick, downwards... fangs scraping lightly against the side of his neck. “And you are mine now, claimed and marked.”

“Yours?” he was not exactly protesting, though he did not know why. His processor was spinning and the caresses were distracting him further... 

Megatronus... Megatron made sure he could not think too much for the next long while.

* * *

“I have to say I envy you,” Wheeljack looked at his friend, sitting in the couch, lap full, and overflowing with, the beautiful cybercat he had gifted him.

“Oh?” Wheeljack ducked his helmet a little and flushed hot. 

“He likes you and he hated me, I rather wish he had liked me... he’s such a beautiful cybercat,” the scientist sighed. 

“You want a pet?” he shrugged not even noticing the slight edge to the question. 

“Why not? Maybe if I had not had to keep him at the lap he would have liked me more, it gets lonely in my apartment you know?” Optimus nodded thoughtfully at the words, recognizing the lithe in his friend’s voice. He had been sort of lonely here too till Megatron came, even as ‘just a pet’ he had been good company. 

Now... ‘good’ was not the word he would use to describe him.

“Maybe you should try to look at a shelter? I know pet cybercats are rare but you could be signed up,” he offered. 

~Or a little cybercat might just be scratching at his window soon,~ Optimus did not start but he knew that his surprise had to have been visible on his face plates and strong through the bond. Luckily Wheeljack’s optics was still on his ‘pet’.

~Megatron?~

“Maybe I should, it can’t hurt can it?” the scientist smiled and got up, “I better go now, it’s getting late. Just stay there I can lock myself out, see you tomorrow!” Optimus called his goodbye before lifting his overly self satisfied mate from his lap. 

“Explain!” he demanded. 

~I’m not the only werecybercat out there, and Wheeljack never hurt me... I know a few who wouldn’t mind taking their path by Wheeljack’s window in the hopes he might be what they want,” a fanged cattish grin, so familiar and strange at once. 

Optimus had no answer to that, and when his mate literally shifted in his hands he had only a few more astroseconds of processor power left to try and form one. 

Megatron was such a ravenous lover.

* * *

“Mrow?” Wheeljack stared at the predominantly white cybercat sitting on his windowsill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU, werecybercat, oral, slash, implied spark bonding, semi dub-con
> 
> Beta All the nice people of my TitanPad/google doc session


	23. Jorogumo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is actually #23.Yôkai http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yokai but I chose the yokai know as jorōgumo (spiders) to build this story on. Totally mangled it all in the process of course

Orion trotted along in the wake of his new master’s long stride. He knew the samurai was less than pleased with receiving a ground pounder slave.

Instead of transforming and flying home he had to walk there... it was not a long trip but he had made his displeasure very clear. Orion could do little about his lot, the heavy, ugly slave collar around his neck joint testimony to that. At least the samurai was not violent towards him... 

No, just cold, angry, and completely dismissive. It was like he was not even there for the most part, even when he served him energon the samurai did not look at him. 

It was still better than violence, he had to admit to that even as he wanted... wished, it was different. Taken as a prisoner of war and made into a war slave when the war was over. He could honestly barely remember a time he had not had the heavy weight of the collar around his neck. 

War slaves could not be freed unless they were taken as mates, and who in their right processor would mate a landless, fortuneless, unlucky mech? 

No one. 

If he had not belonged to an old, derelict femme before being given to the samurai he might have been raped though. It had come close a few times back in the village, when some mech had thought his lady was preoccupied with something else. 

He feared that it would happen soon. Not by the hand of the samurai of course, his disdain for him was palatable, but any soldier, any noble that the samurai might pass him off to. Or just any random mech they might meet. 

It was perfectly within a slave owner’s right to give his slave to anyone who might want him. After all a slave was property, and property was there to be used. 

Pushing the thoughts away he adjusted the straps of his pack. He of course had his subspace filled with supplies and the rewards his master had received, beside him, from the grateful villagers. He knew that, surprisingly, his master also had full subspace pockets, but still he had to carry some on his back in a crudely put together pack. 

And he was tired. And hungry, but he did not dare ask for fuel. 

They had been walking nearly all light cycle, on the morning meal. That might be enough for the big samurai but Orion had not had a lot in his tanks to start out with. He had never been directly starved, but he had not had a full tank since he was taken captive.

Trotting slowly became stumbling along. 

At the point where he was almost unable to think his master stopped. It was a good thing that he had gotten behind or he might have walked straight into the samurai. 

“Make camp there,” the larger mech ordered, pointing to a small clearing on the side of the road. Orion scrambled to do so, doing his best to ignore his tiredness, his empty tank, and his aching chassis. 

When everything was done he brought out a cube of fuel and brought it to the samurai, not falling to the temptation of taking fuel first. He needed it but... 

“Master,” he had to hold the cube out in both hands and even so they shook. The cube was taken and he was waved off with a rough dismissive sound. Stumbling back he finally took a cube for himself, longingly thinking of the many cubes in his subspace. They were not for him though...

He thought he might have dozed off a littled when suddenly his master sprang to his pedes and drew his twin wakazashis. 

“Show yourself!” the bellow seemed unnaturally loud and echoless. 

“Why, my lord, I am but a lone femme, no need to arm yourself on my account,” the voice was sultry and warm, and Orion hated it. There was an undertone to it, a buzz that annoyed his audio receptors. But the femme it belonged to was beyond beautiful. Black, purple and gold, indecently clad in what looked to be organic fabric... 

Only pleasure’bots dressed, concubines sometimes, but no respectable femme or mech would deck themselves out like this one had. Orion looked back to his master, to see if he needed to do something. His master however was not paying him any attention at all, his arms hung limply with his weapons clasped loosely. 

It looked... wrong. 

“Would my lord not like to recharge in a proper berth tonight?” the fabric slipped a little, revealing an ebony shoulder. An elegant display, but still the actions of a shareware, two-cred pleasure model. 

“Of course,” his master’s voice sounded odd, almost drugged, and the twin blades were put away clumsily, the samurai almost cutting his own plating with them. But what could he do other than follow? He was just a slave after all. 

Even with the cube in his tank he was exhausted enough to stumble along, barely able to put pede in front of pede. The trip was, however, not long and he followed his master as they were shown to a beautiful room in the impressive villa.

The rice paper walls had beautiful decorations on them, paintings of colorful patterns and scenery... but something about it all disturbed Orion. 

Putting the pack away he glanced up by accident and saw the strange femme kiss his master. It made him cringe, but he did not know why, he had only been with the samurai for half a groon in all, and most of that had been waiting on him at the village in between him hunting the fell beastly oni that had plagued them.

The samurai lay down for recharge as soon as he came inside the room, not a word to his slave. Orion settled back and watched him for a moment, then rose and took a closer look on the painted walls. 

Spiders... 

There were spiders depicted in each and every scenery, stylized ones a part of every pattern. His uneasiness grew, and in the end he put his thin travel recharge pad from the pack and laid it out in front of the door to the room. 

Once during the dark cycle his recharge was disturbed by something touching him, but when he onlined his optics nothing was there...

* * *

They did not see their hostess when the next orn dawned, but that was only to the good. His master was groggy and confused. Even asking Orion how they had arrived at the villa. Orion did not tell him about the kiss, but he was even more worried now.

There were stories... legends of beings far more subtle in their destructive magic than the Oni kin. 

He spent the orn between looking after his master’s needs with the silent servants of the villa and looking into anything that was not barred to him. 

The paintings continued to plague him, they seemed so cheerful and pretty but when you looked at them closely they depicted scenes of great sorrow, carnage and death. 

Everything seemed off here, the servants were all male, not one of them were a slave but they seemed drained of... of life? And they did not look like servants really, they had the air and movements of warriors. 

And then there was the items. He found them in the strangest places. Weapons, not pieces of decoration but real ones. Packs not unlike the one he had carried here. And spider webbing where any servant worth his or her vornly pay should have removed it. But even when he pointed it out to one of the servants the mech looked at it and then went past as if it was nothing. 

When Hadeen sunk below the horizon their hostess returned. Clad as richly as before and acting as much the seductress. She immediately attached herself to the samurai, waited on him even.

Orion watched as the servants shrunk from her, their dim optics showing flickers of fear. 

That dark cycle the femme shared many kisses and caresses with the samurai, but when she offered to follow him to his room he declined. Haltingly and as if it pained him to do so, but he still managed to do it. 

“Slave!” Orion looked up, startled at the address. Usually the samurai would just grunt at him, or point at something, leaving it up to him to guess and do. 

“You guarded my door last dark cycle,” it was not a question, but the frown on the handsome face plates was... tired, confused. Not at all the expression he was used to seeing.

“Yes, master,” he bowed respectfully. 

“Do so again, please...” the halting nature of the request, not an order, made his spark skip a pulse. He had never thought to see his master like this, and he did not like it. 

He would rather have the coolness back. 

Nodding, he rose and took his travel pad, laying it before the door once again. 

Again he was woken in the deep of the dark cycle, and this time he thought he saw the hint of a movement when he powered on his optics.

* * *

It was almost impossible to get his master up the next light cycle. He was groggy, not even collected enough to be grouchy. He went through his exercises like he did not know how to do them, stumbled every third or fourth step.

Orion dared attempt to get him to leave. He did not think that his master would survive another dark cycle in this place, it was an evil place... 

But his master simply waved his soft spoken pleads away, rumbling with lazy displeasure. 

And then darkness fell again. 

The temptress arrived and with her any hope of reaching his master . But Orion had no wish to be stranded here and did not wish the fate seemingly coming on his master. For all his coldness and dismissals he had never done him any true harm. 

He knew little of handling the weapons of the samurai class, but there was one weapon he knew how to use well. The ax was covered with dust and dried up strands of spider web. When he returned to his master’s side, the mech was almost lying down, the femme on his lap, speaking sweet words into his audio receptor. 

No... this night his Master would not have the strength to turn the yokai away this time. 

True enough when it was time for recharge the offer of company was taken with a tone slurred lust. 

Orion watched them go, the ax hidden under an ornamental table out in the hallway. He should be staying here, let his master have his privacy. He was not going to be a good cowed slave this time... 

He waited long enough for them to have been able to reach the guest room and then followed. Picking up the ax on the way. 

He could hear them long before he reached the room. Moans and gasps from the femme and strange strangled sounds from his master. The noises of two chassis, united in berth play... but it was... wrong. His master would not sound like that, and the sounds of the chassis grinding together? Only one of them was moving. 

The door was open and the first glimpse inside nearly made him freeze. The femme was riding his master, robe still about her chassis but hanging low around her as if partially discarded. A thin strand of glowing energy flowed from his master’s mouth and into the femmes, he could only see that because she had her helmet thrown back, arms out as if she was trying to embrace something invisible. 

It looked obscene. He had seen plenty of couples enjoy intimate pleasure together, this way and other ways. None had looked like this. His master’s silvery grey frame, with black and white patterns, was turning colorless... like the servants of this place. A shell of what he should be...

Orion clutched the ax to his chest and prayed to Primus and Unicron, the heavenly emperors, for the courage to do what needed to be done. Once he had formed the last words in his processor he took a better hold on his chosen weapon and ran into the room, swinging it at the yokai femme’s ornate helmet. 

Somehow she heard him and managed to react, tearing away from his master, but the ax still bit into her delicate shoulder and bright viciously green energon splattered to the floor and onto the samurai. 

Where it hit smoke curled up, and his master’s voice changed from the terrible strangled noises to a roar of pain. The ax handle was yanked from his hands and he fell to the floor, pain tearing through him from his leg. 

For a moment he thought he might have broken a strut, but when he managed to focus his optics he found the sharp end of a horrifically oversized spider leg piercing through his armor. Time seemed to slow as he followed it up and saw the yokai for what it truly was...

Jorogumo... a spider demon. A consumer of mechs.

Even as he felt his spark contract in fear he still pitied the woman this demon had once been. He knew the stories, after all. A rape victim, cast out for being a temptress, bespoken by a four hundred vorn old mechaspider. Forging an unholy union fueled by revenge and venomous hatred towards all other living beings. 

But even as he felt pity he knew that such a being should be killed. The union should never have happened... most of a Jorogumo’s victims were innocents, something the femme within the demon was no longer capable of recognizing. 

Her hatred towards all mechs kept the mechaspider alive, the feeding on the sparks of innocent mechs kept the femme herself alive. 

But he did not know how he would kill it. Caught as he was, the ax lodge deep where the giant mechaspider’s front chassis met its back. If he could reach it... 

Suddenly the leg was yanked out of his wound and he saw his master attack the mechaspider. But the samurai was too weak and slow to be a true opponent, and Orion knew this. Fighting the pain as well as he could, he struggled to stand. 

Maybe Primus and Unicron had heard him in their lofty halls of stars, maybe he was just that lucky and the mechaspider that distracted by her former meal. Whichever good fortune had befallen, he managed to grasp the ax and yank it out, the blade pitted from the acid energon. He brought it down on the junction again, again... 

The Jorogumo’s scream was horrible as it, she, collapsed into a heap of twitching limbs and bubbling acidic energon. 

Not even in his brief stint as soldier had Orion actually killed something. And Jorogumo or not... He gagged and stumbled away, the ax falling from his lax hand. Orion barely registered the rumbling voice of his master before he slumped to the floor, overwhelmed processor seeking solace in the darkness of forced stasis.

* * *

“Little master?” the voice was rough but soothing and the cool press against his face plates felt divine. Orion mewled and scrunched up his face plates, knowing somehow that he did not want to remember why he was laying down, being bathed. 

Then the title registered and his optics powered on. 

The mech looking down on him, holding the sponge against his face plates looked gaunt but healthy, and strangely familiar. after a moment of confusion it all came back and he immediately felt powerfully nauseous. At the first sound of gagging his helper got him up and leaning over the side of the recharge pad, and he purged his tank into a bowl seemingly put there for that very purpose. 

“It is fine, it is perfectly normal, little master,” the rough voice was still soothing, the hands firm and gentle as he was guided to lie back. 

“What... I-I am no one’s master, sir?” he coughed a little and tried for a smile. 

“You are no one’s slave anymore, and a killer of a yokai had a right to what it leaves behind,” he knew that rumble well, still cool but no longer dismissive. Turning his head he saw not just his former master but a couple of monks and the rest of the former servants of the yokai femme. 

“The villa has changed, and the monks have blessed it, driving out any demonic taint left. It and the riches within are yours, little master, and so is the loyalty of the samurai lords in this room,” it was a different mech speaking this time, but Orion, who’s optics had barely left his former master, only saw him nod his agreement. 

“You are a noble by default now, as the villa and the lands and villagers around it belonged to me, and I am now in life debt to you,” this time it was the gaunt mech tending to him that spoke. No... not gaunt, old, very old. 

“It is fitting indeed as I have no heirs, and you are a Creation any Creator would be proud to claim,” the mech nodded sharply and put the cloth down. “I have laid claim to you in the hearing of the monks, all you need to do is accept.”

Orion could barely nod, confused and oddly enough more afraid now than he had ever been when confronting the Jorogumo. 

His optics slid from his new Creator to the samurai he had called master and he caught something in the red optics that stunned him. 

Shame and want, and something even softer...

* * *

“It is time for me to leave, little master,” everyone called him that now, but only this voice sent a chill down his spinal array. He looked up and met the closed off inscrutable optics of his former master, the samurai lord Megatron. 

“I... suppose it is...” Orion pit his lower derma, and looked back down to the crystal he was cradling in his hands. He must have imagined the feelings he had seen in his optics that one time, it had to have been the lingering weakness. Megatron was as cool as ever, if no longer dismissive. 

“Before I go...” looking back up he had the rare opportunity of seeing discomfort cross the impassive face plates, “I must apologize to you.” 

“Apologize?” he asked, pursing his dermas in confusion. 

“For having been such a cold master to you... I could not...” a lengthy pause ensued before the large mech slowly kneeled. 

“The code of the Samurai allows us little leeway, many fall once or twice...” the silver grey hand shook a little and hesitated as if he was afraid the touch would be rejected. Orion could not help but lean into it when it came, a gentle cradling of his cheek plating... as gentle as his own hold on the crystal. 

“I desired you as a slave, but touching you would have been my undoing. For that I treated you coldly, pretended that you did not exist... a crime, but not as bad a one as what I could have committed. I apologize for it still, and beg your forgiveness,” the hand fell and the large mech bowed, his hands palms up in Orion’s lap, his helmet kissing the ground in front of his knee joints. 

“There is nothing to forgive, my lord samurai, you can go in peace,” but he wished he would not. 

“If there is nothing to forgive,” Megatron slowly sat back and looked down at Orion with serious but no longer cold optics. “Would you allow me to return?” 

“Of course, I would be happy to see you again,” Orion flushed hot, just a little and looked away, wishing he had a fan to hide the expression with. 

“I will return swiftly then!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU, spider monster, mangled japans mythology, mangled fairy tale logic, het, some gore
> 
> Beta all the nice people of the Google doc session


	24. Multiple Limbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a continuation of 'Plant Monster', it would not stop gnawing on my ankles.

Megatron was by nature suspicious, he had rarely ever been given anything without having to fight for it. In the mine, in the arena, on the political scene. That was how he had learned to live and having a gift dumped in the lift on the elevator tower was... disconcerting.

He was sure it was some Autobots plan, but Hook had scanned it... Pit, he had even had Mixmaster scan it. There was nothing in there but some organic thing. They could not say if it was alive or not, but the sheer oddity of the Autobots sending him something organic... Yes, he did not trust it, but he was intrigued.

Optimus was not one to use such underhanded means as poison, that third in command of his though. Yet he would have to go through proper channels and would then be blocked by his Prime. Unless he had decided to go rogue, but the Autobots were all so stupidly loyal. Ah well, maybe not stupidly, he could do with a few truly loyal mechs in his own army. A few loyal mechs that were not blithering idiots.

Finally he took the lid off the box, only to find another, this one sunken a little into the box, lid underneath that, he paused and looked at the datapad that had been caught between the two lids. Small, completely, utterly normal. Just a data pad. 

Hmm... 

Taking it he turned it over in his hands and then activated it. 

_Megatron,_

_Enjoy the present._

_Affectionately,  
Optimus Prime_

Affectionately? Since when...

Even more suspicious now he lifted the second lid. Under it was a plant, his optical ridges rose and he took the thing out of the box. It had a decent size compared to his own, and seemed to consist entirely of long floppy strands that seemed unending. 

He put it on the desk and set the box a side, wondering why the Prime would sent him an organic plant. He had to know that he would have it destroyed, if not destroy it himself. 

Leaning over it he failed to notice as the tips of the long strands started to move. A few of them anchored the plant to the desk, carefully testing that what they were grasping for was a part of the desk. 

Then they reached for pewter grey plating. 

Megatron jerked back, shocked at the sudden and fast move, but even his battle honed reflexes could not save him. And where one vine had gotten a grasp other’s followed. He did not even manage to charge his fusion cannon. 

By the time it occurred to him that it was a possibility he felt too good to do so. 

The vines wiggled under his plating and stroked, even pinched, like a lover would. They slid teasingly over his plating and pried gently at his interface panel until he revealed his spike and valve to them. Involuntarily but... how could he withstand the constant onslaught of pleasure?

They wrapped around his spike and invaded him like he had allowed no one to since he became master of his own destiny.

Silvery transfluid splattered to the floor, and his condensation slick form was guided down gently to lie beside the evidence of his pleasure. He thought it was over... 

it was not.

* * *

_Prime,_

_What is this creature you have ‘gifted’ me?  
\- Megaton_

Optimus grinned and put the pad down. Well, the plant had not been sent back, and it certainly did not sound like it had been destroyed. Mission accomplished he supposed and gently stroked the lax vine winding about his waist. 

Maybe he could offer peace soon and they could go about saving their planet. And possibly more... his grin turned a little wicket. Perceptor and Ironhide, and several others now, were great advocates of the vines talents in regards to couple berth play. He was almost sure he could suggest something that would get Megatron to try it out with him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU G1, plant sexing, tentacles, molesting, secret santa-sih gifting
> 
> Beta No-one D:


	25. Favorite Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love vampires, then again I love most fantasy/mythological/sci-fi monsters, but vampires were not on the list of named monsters so I chose to do it for this prompt!

Orion offlined his aquamarine optics and opened his vents fully to the blessed cool of the night air. His senses were full of impressions, thoughts, sights and sounds. The night was alive around him, mortals bustling about, animals doing what their nature dictated. 

And under all that the throbbing pulse of millions of sparks, millions of lives... 

What he was interested in was the energon flowing in their lines, the substance that kept their sparks pulsing. the substance he needed to keep his own spark pulsing... only he had to drink it from one of them.

Until he found his other half he would have to hunt, sometimes even kill. It had been hard in the beginning, when the viral code first activated in him. He had been a cadet in the Elite Guard, promising, talented... had skills in almost everything. 

It was all because of his Creators, whom he had thought offline. 

It was all because of the viral code. 

Virals, no matter what kind, could not raise their own sparklings. On the off chance that one would turn out an ordinary mortal. 

But the viral code made up for that by turning the adult mech into a virtual sparkling. Needing to feed from and learn from his code originators, the mechs that had originally Created him from their own sparks and CNA.

When the viral code started to manifest in his systems the first effect was a pheromone. It told any virals near that he would soon be reverting to the helpless state of change. He was kidnapped before he even realized something was wrong, delivered to his true code originators and told as much as was possible before the change started. 

It had been a resparking. It had been hard, especially when he found he fell after his Creator’s spark and had become one of the viral subgroup known as ‘vampires’. Mastering the need for processed or partial processed energon from a mortal mech’s lines was... hard. 

His Creators had taught him to hunt the bad mechs that always were around, taught him to seek them out with his limited telepathy, those that killed, raped, hurt, stole, bullied... 

Some of it was of course the experience that fledgling vampires did not take well to killing ordinary mechs, some of it was the fact that all virals had once been mortals for a time. Killing needlessly, even when learning not to kill when feeding... well, they might as well serve the society for a little while. Or a long while if they decided to ‘help’ clean up. 

However, when a vampire found a mate among one of the other viral kind he would be able to feed off of him, and not have to hunt very often, or at all. In fact the mate would often consume energon at a slightly elevated rate, forcing such feedings to happen or risking the bursting of minor energon lines. 

It was a well established symbiosis.

He huffed and onlined his optics again. It was time to hunt... he scaled the building with the ease of practice and mingled smoothly with the crowds. Reading processors to find someone who deserved to have their evening of fun cut short. 

The target was a mech who thought fondly of getting someone drunk enough to interface without asking too many questions about viruses or about keeping important plating closed. Not as bad a mech as he could have found, but it was enough. 

Charming him into an alley was not hard, the mech was all too ready to be fooled into believing he was the one doing the charming. The bite caused an intense sensation of pleasure, but he of course also clouded his processor. 

In the middle of feeding a strong, alluring scent reached him and he lifted his helmet immediately. Distracted from a merely mediocre meal by the promise of something much richer.

The scent weakened and he dropped his groaning meal, erasing all images of himself in the weakened mind. 

As soon as he got out onto the street again the scent got stronger, but who it was eluded him. there were mechs of all kind here, minibots, car alts, tuck alts... even gun alts, tanks and seekers. Alti Hex was a place for all to come and trade. A perfect habitat for the virals, the Pit to find a single morsel in. 

Breem after breem, joor after joor. Soon Hadeen would rise and he would have to go to ground... the weakness that would persist as long as he could not feed from a mate. If he went to ground he would lose the scent, he could not! It was too alluring... too... 

Too what he needed. 

Eventually though he had little choice. He might survive Hadeen, or he might not. Better to go to ground and hope for a miracle in the dark cycle to come.

* * *

“Hello,” the voice was deep, raspy... pleasant. Orion mewled and licked his dermas, dental fangs elongating slightly. The air was full of the most wonderful thick, rich scent... he could hear a strong spark pulse, throbbing... 

“Mmm...” a low raspy chuckle sounded and hot plating was pressed against his mouth. He did not even think in this half online state, simply bite down on what was offered. A rough strut melting growl greeted his action and near scalding hot energon flowed over his glossa. So thick... so rich... delivering more than the scent had promised. 

He did not even try a token struggle when he was pulled up and into someone’s lap, the arm he was feeding from was not pulled away after all. Nothing mattered but that, even when his tank was full to near bursting he was reluctant to pull away and lick the wound closed. 

“Hmmm...” a glossa licked his audio finial and he purred in response, leaning into the still hot plating of his... his what? his meal? with an unnaturally easy trust. 

“You taste good,” even his voice was slurred, as if he was drunk. He could not even manage to finally online his optics. It did not matter, at this moment he could offline happily, having tasted something that must have been as close to the lifefluids of Primus and Unicron as any ungodly being could come to it. 

“I should, little one,” the rumble made him laugh, giggle... 

“Mhmm?” why, but the word did not form in his vocalizer. 

“I’m your mate to be, or do you not remember what your Creators told you?” finally he managed to online his optics, helmet craned back to see the mech, the viral, he was being held by. He did remember, and now he also understood, but he was still too high, too full of this first taste to properly respond. 

“No matter,” he whined in protest when he was put back onto the flooring, though the protest did not last for long.

He opened eagerly to the mech. Giving as freely as he had gotten, glorying in the sensations the bigger mech could conjure with just a few touches. The pleasure almost as good as the taste of him. 

And when he was lifted to slide down over that seemingly too big spike... engorged spark against engorged spark? His mate urged him to bite again, to drink deep.

* * *

“Orion,” the raspy growl called him into the world of the online and he got up as soon as he found himself alone. Seeking his mate out easily by the feel in his spark, the sound of a spark pulsing that he would never again forget. 

“What?” he did not spare his mate much scrutiny, he knew his big form more intimately than any other could ever hope to. The same deep raspy chuckle greeted his half annoyed snap. 

“Come watch the sunrise with me, little one,” Megatron held out a still clawed hand, not having bothered to shift from were form to mech...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA, vampire, implicit many ‘monster subgroups’, slash, spark sharing 
> 
> Beta all the nice people of the Google doc session


	26. Favorite Monster Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'what could have happened' story

It was always like this. 

Hectic, painful, dangerous, fear filled and then resolution. 

Fighting back plating to back plating, to keep alive and ultimately stop the terror for the mechs and femmes that had called them and would be paying them.

It was always perilous work. Spark eaters were no joke even on a good orn, the terrible monsters well able to terrorize an entire city. Able to down fully upgraded mechs, law enforcers and even most soldiers without more than a wound or two to their own hide. 

Specialized knowledge and equipment was needed to put them forever offline. And of course experience did not hurt... 

And they were the best there was, a team in every sense of the word. 

Megatronus and Orion, Spark eater hunters extraordinaire, the best of the best. 

The crunch of an electrum bladed ax meeting armor and cutting its way through it. Arches of dimly glowing energon flying from twin blades. Those where the sounds and sights of their work.

Quiet moans, spark light and the arch of a slim chassis into a bulkier one... those were the sights and sounds of their love. 

Who knows what would have become of them if not for the Spark eater attack that nearly offline Orion on his way home from work? They might never have met if his cry for help had not reached Megatronus audio receptors. 

They might both have died if Megatronus had not carried an electrum enhanced drill bit in his sub space. 

So many factors, so many sounds, sights, sensations... 

What else is there to create the path of life, but fate and the will to survive what it throws at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU IDW, spark eaters, slash, philosophical 
> 
> Dellessa helped me with a super awesome idea and my muses turned it super strange and short T.T sorry D:
> 
> Beta all the nice people of the Google doc session


	27. A Truely Gruesome Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Megatron had not approved of the shooting down of the dockworkers in G1?

##### Just what makes a monster?

##### Is it someone who cannot feel and therefore does things that someone with feelings would never do?

##### Or maybe someone who can feel and yet still does horrible things?

##### But either definition is flawed. Just because you have a flaw in your programming making you unable to feel doesn't mean you will end up a monster in the end. The flaw is not what makes you a monster, but your actions can...

##### It is the same with people that feel.

##### And yet we often excuse doing horrible things with words like ‘For Altihex’. Or ‘for my family’... any variation of these words really. ‘For’ something, a universal excuse for war, for killing all those that don’t agree with you, or all those with the color yellow in their paint job.

##### It does not really seem to matter. The individual using the excuse is a monster, is he not? It is the mass murderer that the law enforces put away in a spark crystal for forever... because we are too gentle a society to kill.

##### But a soldier is an individual too, he kills dozens on the battlefield, he does unspeakable things in the name of his home, our planet... Yet he will not be locked away forever in a state of limited awareness. The soldier is a hero, not a monster.

##### So if it is neither flaws nor actions that make the monster... what is it?

##### Enjoyment?

##### Does the soldier not enjoy the fact that his actions keep his home safe? Is that not in a manner taking enjoyment from doing horrible things?

##### And could the mass murderer not say that his actions stemmed from a fact that he did not feel safe, even if the threat only existed in his processor?

##### Is the difference that the soldier nominally kill for the common good?

##### Does that mean that all killings done for the greater good are excusable? Then what if a mass murderer’s victims were other murderers... he could claim to be doing that for the common good could he not? And in a manner of speaking he would be right too, he stopped other murderers from ever killing again, and served the common good by there being no need for a trial, or the expenses of keeping a spark crystal vitalized forever more.

##### Yet most would say it is still murder.

##### It was not sanctioned by the council so its murder. It was not done in desperate last ditch effort self defense or in a moment of insanity.

##### No one _asked_ him to do it.

##### So it is murder.

##### And he is a monster.

Orion huffed unhappily and put the pen down, data pad resting in his lap. He had way too much time to kill these orn... since the attack on the docks and his being spared by Megatron. 

He had been granted a scholarship so that he could devote himself entirely to studying, some private mech or other paying for it all. Honestly he did not know what to say about it. Ariel was gone, Dion was still in the hospital... 

All he could think about was how the Decepticons had swept in and started to shoot, and then Megatron had arrived. Cuffed one of his own soldiers hard enough to knock him out and roared at the others to look... 

_”Look at them! Look at who you are shooting at, idiots, disengage your weapons!”_

He could still hear the voice in his head, he could still feel the rough textured black hands as the pulled him off his dead friend’s grayed out chassis. 

_”I am sorry, youngling, she should not have been a casualty.”_

There had been true sadness there, and pain in the deep red optics when he looked up at him. 

Megatron. 

He was the one the media, the council politicians, every mech on the very streets!, called a truly gruesome monster. 

Of all the mechs and femmes who had dealt with him since the Elite Guard arrived at the docks he had been the only one truly sad, truly caring. No one else had picked him up, held him close and carried him away from the husk of his once friend. 

Not one other had spoken gentle, caring words in his audio receptor about how Primus took all sparks into his Well... 

How could Megatron be the monster? 

He could not see him as one. And even though it was a Decepticon who had killed Ariel he could not see them as monsters either. They had expected guards; of course they had... war had been declared not two joors before the attack.

There should have been guards. 

Orion turned off the datapad entirely and frowned at the bare wall on the other side of the room. He knew where the next rally would be held, but would he be welcomed there? Did he dare join the rebellion...

Did he dare become a monster too, in the optics of the greater part of Cybertron?

* * *

The room was dark, the berth unused. A datapad and pen lay on the neatly folded thermal blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU IDW, spark eaters, philosophical, considering who is the real monster in his life
> 
> Beta all the nice people of the Google doc session


	28. A Group of Monsters Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wild Hunt rides across the land to hunt out shadow creatures and send them back to their underworld dwellings. Magnificent and terrifying the hunt will drive most mortals mad if they stay to see it, they will take any evil mortal they meet for prey... but if you ride a whole dark cycle with the hunt a great boon will be bestowed upon you...

Judgment had been passed, despite him having nothing to do with the murder of one of his best friends. Elita One, the Creation of the clan leader, had been arrogant and obnoxious at times but he had loved her as a sister.

What hurt more through was that Sentinel had refused to lift his voice in his defense; he knew that it had been an accident! But he blamed him, blamed him for not stopping him and Elita One’s foolish climbing about on the cliff face. Had blamed him, though he had urged them not to... and had done his best to prevent the deadly fall.

There had been no murder, there was no evidence... But he would pay anyway, with his life or his sanity.

Optimus huddled in the crude cage, optics on the horizon and the disappearing Hadeen. It was the longest night of the Vorn and he would be feeling every joor and breem as time stretched toward the joor of the offline.

Since they could not judge him for murder with no evidence, they would let the huntsmech pass judgment... If he was found dead in his cage by sunrise he was guilty, if he was found raving mad he would be innocent and be taken care of for the rest of his life. It was hardly comforting to Optimus and with the cold of the dark closing in he thought he might simply go offline from iced over lines...

No, he did not believe in the wild hunt, he hardly believed any of the old tales and he did not think anyone else did either. They were hoping he would offline from the cold, ending the case with a guilty mark. He was an easy target, being an orphan, a take-in from a monk.

With Elita One’s death it suddenly did not matter that he had been raised by the entire hold. Those that would speak for him were too low a rank to make any dent in those that chose to speak against him. Those that claimed envy and deceit in the orphan mechling. He had been companion and friend to the clan leaders’ Creations, potentially something that could have made him powerful.

It was not till now that he thought about it. He had little interest in politics, and the machinations behind it left him with a bad taste on his glossa. This was an opportunity for those that saw him as a threat, nothing more. They expected him to freeze offline this night cycle.

In a small cage with no chance of moving and only the ragged remains of a thermal blanket to wrap around his shoulder pauldrons... they were likely to get their expectations fulfilled.

He stared fixedly at the sunset, refusing to turn and look after signs of a storm. He did not _believe_ in the wild hunt... And should they come he had only madness to look forward to.

Why look for your doom?

And then darkness fell.

Optimus was left in the cold with only a few winking stars as company and soon even they disappeared behind thin clouds.

He was in a manner happy for them; clouds meant that it would be less cold. For that very same reason he hated them... It would take his lines that much longer to freeze, delaying his agonizing offlining.

No, he did not want to die. But if he had to go offline there were easier, less painful ways than freezing. Optimus wished he had a way to do it, a blade or that he could open his chest plates... But in the interest of the trial and judgment those options had been taken away from him.

With no stars to watch he could not say how much time went by. At some point it started to snow, soft little crystals. He was so tired...

He was startled out of an icy dozing by a powerful gust of cold air and the painful prickle of ice crystals invading his unprotected seams. Everything hurt, he could literally feel how the energon moved sluggishly in his lines. Losing energy too fast, close to freezing entirely. 

Why could he not have just dozed off? 

At first he thought that the thin whine came from him, until the sound grew and became howling that rivaled the noise of the snow storm. Turbohounds? But that was impossible... maybe it was cyberwolves, yeah, it had to be cyberwolves. 

He drifted, lost in pain but unable to let go and just give up. Time flowed again, like sand between his fingers.

Dull pink optics... 

Dull pink optics in the snow, white plating, and pink tipped audio shells... pink paws, like the turbohound had stepped in freshly spilled energon. Turbohound? But that was impossible, no turbohound had those colors and it could not be out here... not in this cold and the st~

More dull optics joined the first pair, the turbohounds moving restlessly closer, pushing and shoving at each other. Suddenly one lifted its head and howled, like no turbohound should be able to. The others followed. 

He had to be hallucinating, if he was not then everything he had ever believed to be true... was not true.

The turbohound flock parted and something walked forward, it was big, and unlike the hounds it was black as a moonless dark cycle. A chronosteed, a large black one. 

It was too much, and yet he could not help lifting his head, well more like letting it loll back to see the mech riding the black creature. An ebony cape edged in white, dark grey plating... red, red optics. 

“ **An offering?** ” he could not understand the words and his vision was fading, he was so cold and the things he was seeing could not be anything but dreams... Maybe that meant it had all been a dream, a nightmare?

“ **Not much of an offering, sire, the mortal is almost dead already,** ” a sneering voice he could not understand it either. 

“ **There are no shadows in this one, a pure spark left for the hunt to find... A grave mistake on such a dark cycle as this,** ” the cage shook and he slipped, the pain of his shoulder hitting the bottom of it nothing compared to the pain he felt all over. 

“ **Sire? What are you doing!** ” shock, he could hear the shock. if not understand... but more importantly he could feel something soft and warm being wrapped around him as he was lifted. Maybe he was dreaming of being rescued even as he offlined for good. That was more reasonable than thinking it was all a detailed nightmare.

“ **What has always been done with those offered to us without reason, Starscream, though you, and your trine, are too young to remember the last time it happened. You might want to talk to Soundwave about it,** ” carried, warm... even the jolt of the large mech getting back on his steed could not bump Optimus from the haze and he simply gave in, whimpering once as the darkness closed in. 

He did not see the exotically tilted red optics look down on him, the inscrutable expression of a harsh, even cruel, facial configuration soften for a moment.

* * *

Optimus woke with a start, sitting up he found himself covered with several layers of thermal blankets and an oddly thick sort of fluffy blanket... and innermost, still wrapped around his chassis, was a ebony edged cape... 

Everything was unnaturally soft, even the surface of the berth itself. So giving that he for a moment feared he would not be able to get out. The flooring was chilly and he instinctively kept the cape around himself, a shiver of remembered cold slithering up his back struts. 

He clutched the cape closer, uneasily noticing how the fabric pooled around his pedes. It was meant for a much larger mech... 

The room he was in was not however, luxurious beyond his wildest imaginings, every wall painted in bright colors, every column carved, every doorway elaborately detailed. The flagplates under his pedes smooth and cool, the carpets thick and warm... the berth so soft. 

A table in the middle of the room held a tray with a few cubes on it. He was too hungry not to drink one, marveling at the smooth taste of what was simply low grade. Medicated no less. 

“I see you are online,” he dropped the mostly empty cube and nearly fell in the cape as he whirled to face the speaking mech. His spark contracted when he caught his first glimpse and he immediately fell to his knee joints, helmet bowed low. 

“M-my lord.” 

“None of that now, little mortal,” large hands closed over his shoulder pauldrons and he was pulled up, as if he weighed nothing, to stand on his pedes again. It left him optics to upper chest plate with the mech he still did not dare really look at. But all he really needed to know he had already been told. 

He had not been dreaming, nor dying. 

“You are welcome here, in Underhill, until the mortal world calls you back, and you will leave here with no repercussions as only the mortals of a pure spark can,” one of the large hands were moved, a clawed digit pressing his chin up until he was forced to look into the dark red tilted optics set in a coldly handsome facial configuration.

It stalled out his cooling systems completely for a moment. Mortals were not supposed to see the immortals, that was the... rule. You might lose yourself in them, and Optimus could understand the danger. Those optics seemed to swallow him up, a red so deep he had seen nothing to rival it in his short life. 

“Come back down, little mortal, you are safe here. You have my word,” and somehow he was released from the thrall... 

“S-safe? But... I...” he off- and onlined his optics, hugging the cape to himself as if the soft warm mesh fabric could protect him from reality. 

“You were an offering to the hunt, but you had done nothing... a pure spark cannot be touched by the madness we bring, nor can we kill one,” the immortal spoke slowly, as if wanting to make sure he understood, “you are welcome among us, and you will be allowed to leave unharmed if you choose so.” 

If? 

Optimus did not know how a mortal could stay among immortals but he nodded and then stammered out a thank you. He even remembered to give back the cape, though he wished badly to keep it.

* * *

In the beginning he could not make himself leave the room, and since energon was brought to him he had no need to. The servants were polite and so beautiful they made him feel clumsy, ugly, and grimy. But they were not trying to make him feel that way, rather the opposite... 

Most of them seemed excited that he was there, hopeful even when they talked to him and asked when he might be ready to ‘join the court’. 

That of course only scared him further. 

But eventually even the beautiful rooms he had been granted could not keep him interested and free of boredom, and he tentatively asked the servant bringing his last meal energon if he might be able to go outside in the next light cycle. 

The innocent question caused a flurry of activity, including a tailor being called upon to take his measurements for suitable clothing and a goldsmith to show off jewelry to him. Dazed by the whole affair he tried to pick things that pleased the servants helping him and both the goldsmith and the tailor. Both seemed to be very opinionated about what he could wear. And half the jewelry was for putting on the clothing and not onto him. 

Eventually the storm was over and he was tucked, literally actually, into berth too stunned and overwhelmed to protest. Recharge was thankfully fast to come... but so was the dawn. 

Instead of the one servant he was used to, he was hauled out of berth by three eager ones. They bustled him off to the wash chamber and scrubbed him down, buffing and waxing him until he felt his plating had to be shiny enough to be used as a mirror. 

After that one of them sat him down and, finally, fed him. Optimus was ravenous by that point, not to mention halfway scared out of his processor. The servant explained, in a chipper exultant tone, that he was going to have his introduction into the court this orn and that they would make sure that he was every inch as gorgeous as they knew he could be. This did not help him a lot, and his fear only grew, but he did not feel he could go back on his own request. 

Then the tailor and the goldsmith arrived and he had to hurry though his cube before standing for them to well... decorate. 

Clothing was something he had only ever worn in winter, and it had always been some sort of cape or wrap around. This was far more sophisticated and the gossamer-like fabric unfamiliar to him. It looked like no mesh cloth he had ever seen, nor like any form of thermal blanket he had ever seen. 

A loin cloth of see-through silver fabric was fastened with a platinum belt hanging low on his hips. Around his shoulder pauldrons and back a long sheer cape of the same color and fabric was artfully draped, a chain and magnetic clamps keeping it in place. They too were of platinum, and set with stones of blue and red to compliment his own coloration. 

His neck joints were encased in something that looked rather like a collar to him, platinum naturally, and set with more stones, a big blue stone was hung from the bottom front part. Bracelets for his wrists and ankle joints were platinum too, set with stones and hug with tiny bells. 

Optimus had never felt more ridiculously misplaced in his entire existence. He was wearing more riches than his adoptive clan collectively had! And that was not counting the cost fabric such as this would call where he came from. 

And when they were finally done with him he was led out without a chance to sit and regain his bearings. 

His introduction happened in a whirlwind of color, applause, and approving mutters, leaving him standing before a raise dais and none other than the huntsmech. 

Optimus did the only thing he could think of, kneeling as gracefully as he was able and offering his empty hands palms up. 

“You are welcome at the court of Unicron’s Creations, little Creation of Primus,” more applause broke out and he dared to rise from the somewhat awkward position. All the while hoping he would not step on some of his clothing. He managed well enough and stood nervously before the throne. 

“M...” he swallowed and dipped his helmet in brief apology, “my lord.” 

“I am called Megatron, little one, that is enough of a title for me,” a gesture with a gleamingly polished black hand invited as much as the next words. “Feel free to move among us, and to find peace here.” 

It seems like it was some sort of signal for the gathered... nobles? He actually did not know what they were, and was further confused as he was introduced to a number of mechs, some of which he was sure had played servant to him. 

He was suddenly extremely glad that he had been polite to each and every one of them. 

“I... I am Optimus,” they never said ‘my name is’ always ‘I am called’ or simply ‘I am’. He emulated it and found that everyone seemed disposed to like him. He was not used to that, until the mock trial he had been liked well enough he supposed... If ‘liked’ meant ignored by most unless he needed something or other to keep him fed, healthy and reasonably educated.

This was different and Optimus could not help but like it and respond to it. He had a hard time seeing these colorful, if spiky, beautiful and somewhat cool natured mechs could be the wild hunt he had been told about as a sparkling and youngling. 

And they were not so different from the mechs he knew, in general build... there were doorwinged mechs, sensor panel mechs, mechs with actual wings, mechs with different kinds of crests and finials. The biggest difference where that these were either much larger or much smaller than most he knew. 

The two small kinds referred to themselves as minicons and minibots and seemed to be very energetic. The large ones were... well, even the smallest of them were bigger than Ultra Magnus. 

All of them treated him kindly, made sure he got energon and talked to him about anything and everything. 

One subject was often came up, and that was the nature of his clan. Optimus huffed softly and corrected himself, his former clan. What could he tell them about that though? there were good mechs, bad mechs... where there any like himself? He did not even know who he was so how could he answer that? 

And yet they seemed so eager to know.

* * *

Orn in the court formed themselves like that. Sometimes the meeting would be in the throne room, sometimes in one of the gardens... even on the great crystal forests that seemed to be a part of the Underhill lands. 

It was easy to flow into the life and he was happy there. Happy apart from the fact that he had nothing to do. Fuel was brought to him, clothing, jewels... he hardly had the time to think that he enjoyed a particular color or style or type of fabric and something made that way or with that would be offered him. 

He knew that some of the immortals, the Creations of Unicron, could read his processor as easily as if he had spoken aloud. It never occurred to him to ask them not to, he was in their world and they were doing him no harm. Even the fliers seemed to have accepted him fully, for all that they had seemed to be reserved in the beginning.

But it did not sit well with him that he could give nothing back. as time went by it bothered him more and more... 

A continual frustration that he could not shake and which prevented him from enjoying his new, better, life as fully as he could.

* * *

“Optimus; please follow,” the big dark blue mech rarely spoke, Optimus knew he was one of the telepaths, the processor readers. He was also one of the mechs always close to the huntsmech... the one mech that Optimus still could not make himself think of or talk to with name only. 

As he had thought he would be, he was brought to the large grey mech where the lord reclined in a pile of pillows and blankets on the multicolored glory of the gardens crysgrass.

“Welcome, little one, please join me,” it was worded as a request but as soon as he spoke the other immortals left them, even the blue telepath who had fetched him. So he sat down on a pillow a the very edge of the immortal lord’s ‘nest’. 

“I will not bite you,” the amused words were accompanied by a cool but absolutely devastatingly handsome smile. Optimus averted his optics and willed his spark to pick up its normal rhythm again. All the immortals were handsome, gorgeous... beautiful beyond imagination. Megatron was something more, so cold, perfect, and effortlessly powerful. 

“I know, lord Megatron,” subdued he more murmured then spoke, optics still not lifting past a grey and red shoulder pauldron. 

“Very well,” a pause, heavy and anticipatory, “Soundwave tells me you wish for a way to repay our hospitality?” 

“Oh...” a quick glance up showed him nothing but the usual cool expression and impassive red optics. “I-I would like something to do... yes?” 

“There is one thing that a mortal can do for us that not one of our own can do,” there was a careful quality to the tone... a sort of warning rumble. Optimus did not like it but he wanted something to do, something to give back so badly. 

“Yes?” his voice broke a little, fear all too obvious in the tone. 

“Carry a new spark for one of my hunters,” blue hands flew up to cover his chest plates and Optimus was about to reject the idea without even thinking it over. But... 

Mechs carried new sparks for others to rise all the time... 

This would be no different. Other than the new spark being an immortal and he leaving at some point never to see the resulting sparkling again. Then again some of those that gave up a new spark to a couple never saw what they had brought into the world, so it would not be different either. 

“With whom, my lord,” he wanted to know who, there were those here he would prefer not to lie with for his first time. 

“Megatron, little one, or Lord Megatron if you insist. And I would not be the one to decide, you are free here, it is not an order but an offer... you would carry the new spark of whom ever you chose,” Optimus oddly enough felt even more disconnected at that, as if he would have preferred being pointed to someone. It would have been much easier really...

Rumors apparently worked as fast among the immortals as it did among mortals for he was being courted already that same orn. That at least was done the same way, if more extravagantly, as it had been in his clan. By last meal he had a small pile of tokens. 

They ranged from cleverly cut gems to fabric cut to fit his favored loincloth style of clothing. It seemed that they had expected this to happen... this courting, this offer. Perhaps all mortals that were brought here were offered the same? 

But most stories of mortals caught in Underhill told of extravagant parties and then waking up outside a hill, attempting to get home and finding that hundred of vorn had passed by during that one party. He had been repeatedly assured that this would not happen to him, that if he chose to leave Underhill he would be let go to his own time. Still... 

Carrying for an immortal? Giving up a sparkling... or more than one if they wanted that. It was a high price to pay for hospitality. Or was it? Any sparkling here would be doted on, given everything it could ever ask for... He would be the one pining, but the sparkling would be fine. 

So he began seriously considering his new suitors. 

Or at least trying to do so.

It just was not so easy. All of them were worthy even for a temporary mating, which went without saying. Some he would not want as lovers, some he could not see as his lovers... and that pretty much covered the available immortal mechs...

* * *

"My lord?" Optimus approached nervously, it was rare to see the huntsmen without an entourage and he had debated if he dared approach him about this among the other immortals. Of course for all he knew this could have been arranged as a result of his anguishing over the thought. The telepaths were nothing if not discreet. 

"Ah, little one, what must I do to have you call me by name?" the large immortal turned and looked down at him. Optimus tried not to shrink under the cool red gaze but it was so very difficult... 

Especially considering what he had to say.

"Please, my lord, I need to... I can't choose someone!" yes, why not simply blurt it out...

"You find none of my hunters worthy?" he could hear the smile and studiously did not look up, knowing the effect the huntsmech had on him. 

"I find myself unworthy, my lord, and unable to choose one to whom I want to give my s-seal..." he could barely get it out, feeling embarrassed beyond words. Useless to these immortals who had taken him in when he might as well simply have been left to freeze to offlining. 

He shivered violently when a large warm hand guided his helmet back, wishing he dared offline his optics.

"Pure and innocent? What kind of beings were your former clan?" so close, too close. 

"Mm," it was all the protest he dared make to the kiss. The huntsmech could do whatever he wanted with him, he owed him his life, his gratitude and for the welcome he had received here among the immortals. Why the being would kiss him, would want to kiss him, he did not know. 

While not his first kiss it was certainly different from any other kiss he had ever been given, or participated in. He did not protest when Megatron gently pried his dermas open and slipped his large glossa into his mouth. He did not know how to respond but it felt.... good.

"This is a solution," he did not understand the words, but he did not protest being picked up. It was hard to think after the kiss. He felt sort of drunk and tingly. 

He was put down on something soft and warm, kissed again and felt large warm hands caress his chassis. 

"Ah, little one, I should not do this, but since you will not choose me, I will chose you," the huntsmech's voice resonated pleasantly, but the words were lost on Optimus. He simply whined and moved into the touching and tried to kiss back as well as he could. 

Clarity came in the moment of tearing pain when the large immortal took his seal, entering him with slow control. He was berthing the leader of the Wild Hunt...

"Shh, little one," he was soothed and kissed again, the haze of warm pleasure descending before clarity could make him panic. 

When his spark was revealed and taken the clarity was different. The huntsmech did not hide himself from him, but what he was, how old he was... Optimus had no way to comprehend it. He did feel the moment the new spark was conceived, its own little spark of familiar/foreign energy attached to his spark. 

In that moment he realized he would never be able to leave Underhill. Even if his little was taken away and given to other immortals to rise he could not leave. He was glad that Megatron's spark had already separated from his, as he did not want him to know how painful this would all be. 

They had given him a home. Giving them new sparks was a fair trade for all the pain he would be feeling. 

The mortal faded into recharge not knowing that the old immortal was watching as coolant tears tracked down his cheek plating.

* * *

"What is this?" Optimus was heavy, abdominal plates swollen, seams gaping, giving everyone a good view of his soft, light blue protoform. His flimsy garments enhanced the fact rather than hide it. The immortals delighted in making things for him to wear or simply to give him in an effort to make him smile.

He tried, but it was hard. He had refused his... his lord and lover, for a time, any more mergings. But by now he was sure they all knew how much he loved his new spark and how much he dreaded saying goodbye to it once the carrying cycle was over. 

"A cape," the black and purple flier, one of the youngest immortals there, smiled nervously, "do you like it?"

It was beautiful. A rich red with a royal blue embroidery pattern stitched over the back. Silver white cyberwolf fur lined it and the inside was charcoal grey, padded thickly with mechamole fur. 

"I love it," it was immediately draped over his shoulders and he stood alone in the hallway again, clutching the thick cape to him.

The past few orn everyone had given him warm things, he did not know why but he dreaded it. Here in Underhill the climate was always a balmy spring... Only out in the mortal world did the seasons shift. 

So what could these gifts mean but that they expected him to leave as soon as he deliver his little one?

"Optimus? Op~oh! There you are, come, come!" he was pulled from his thoughts by an agitated Thundercracker, one of the older fliers, and dragged back towards his room. 

When there he realized that the mech was dressed in warm clothing, from helm to pedetips. But before he could ask what was going on, the larger mech was getting him dressed in his newly acquired winter wardrobe too. Optimus attempted to ask several times and was close to tears when the flier dragged him back out of his rooms and down the hall.

'We don't have time for talking' was little enough to assure his fears. He had yet to spark so that at least was a form of comfort. 

Eventually they reached the courtyard of the strange magical palace. It was full of immortals, chronosteeds of every color imaginable and turbohounds, colored white with optics, ears, paws and tail tips dipped in dull pink... like the color of freshly spilled half processes energon. 

Thundercracker waved to his flier kindred but determinedly stirred Optimus though the crowed until they reached Megatron on his black chronosteed. Dressed in the same cape Optimus had first seen him wearing on the dark cycle where he had thought he would offline.

The immortal was magnificently handsome, and Optimus found himself dropping his gaze once again. It was just too hard being reminded of who the immortal was after all that had been happening between them.

"Come, little one," Thundercracker lifted him before he realized that Megatron was reaching for him and he grabbed for the black hand out of pure self defense. He was seated across the huntsmech's lap in a matter of seconds. 

Thundercracker bowed to the, leaving the confused Optimus behind, stiff in Megatron's confident embrace. It was the first time he had ever been atop a chronosteed and this one was huge enough to be a monster all on its own. 

"Relax, little one, you have joined the hunt," the words were whispered against his audio receptor and then Megatron pulled back a little, tightening the arm around his waist and hollered for the hunt to gather. 

It did not help on Optimus confusion, but he figured it might have something to do with his Carrying. Maybe he needed to partake in a hunt for the little one to be a proper immortal? Then the steed leapt into action, literally as it rose above the courtyard, galloping on air. He was too stunned to be afraid, held secure to Megatron's chest.

* * *

"Keep awake, little one, we only have a short while left," Optimus struggled to online his optics. Tired and chilled despite the warm clothing. How long had the hunt been running? He knew they had caught prey several times; Megatron had stepped down more than once, leaving him on the chronosteed with firm orders not to step onto mortal land, to deal the killing blow. 

Now they were riding for somewhere specific, the light of the stars were fading and the storm clouds under the Wild Hunt thinning. Hadeen was sending rays up above the horizon but not yet onto the land... 

And now the hunt was diving down, though the thinning clouds that felt like wet sparkling kisses on his cold cheek plating. 

It took a while to recognize the place the hunt landed, the buildings eerily familiar but belonging to another life. Only when the gates haltingly opened and a grizzly old grey green mech came forward did he understand. 

"What do the immortals want from clan Magnus?" Kup had been one of the few to speak against his unfair judgment, the oldest of the old in the clan.

"The hunt is here to claim a life," Megatron's rumble was oddly comforting, even if his words were strange and confusing.

"Whose life," Kup sounded resigned but firm. Optimus pulled his hood back and the old mech gasped, stepping forward, only to be stopped by a pair of large growling turbohounds. 

"The life of my mate, Optimus, who was once a mortal of this clan," What? 'once mortal' Optimus looked up but saw only the same cool calmness as he had always seen except during a night of love making. 

"His life was given to you, my lord Huntsmech, unjustly and unfairly as it was never this clans to give, have you not asked him for his life yourself?" a glance down at the bulging abdominal plating, covered or not it was obvious, and Kup smiled reassuringly at him.

"I am not doing this for permission, but for him to know that my claim is true," the huntsmech, Megatron, finally looked down a cool smile flirting with the corners or his thin dermas, "Are you now convinced, little one?" Optimus could only nod weakly.

"Fair well, old one of clan Magnus, may you do well in the shadow time of your life... A reward for bravery untold," magic given by an old immortal, and a jab at the cowardice of a clan who sent their oldest as a sacrifice. 

As one the immortals of the Wild Hunt cried out in their own language, a yell Optimus realized he now understood. 

"For the Light."

The black chronosteed leapt into the sky to the cheer, carrying its riders home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA, slash, courting, implied mechpreg, implied adopting away a sparkling
> 
> Used this http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Hunt - mangled of course! Also worth noting that there are myths about this all over the western world and possibly the rest of the globe too. One of the ones I grew up with states that if you can ride a full hunt with the Wild Hunt you are allowed to choose a boon from them. In some of the stories the boon chosen was to become a ride of the hunt. 
> 
> Beta: AKZeal and all the nice people of the Google doc session


	29. A Monster and its Significant Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the ruin city lies the Labyrinth and its Guardian... but what lies under the Labyrinth that the Guardian needs to guard?

“Hey! Archivist, keep up,” the call was cheerful and good natured, but Optonix’s cheek plating still burned with embarrassment. He was not used to climbing about in the wilderness and he felt like he was being a burden for all of the rest in the archaeological party.

“Look,” he reached the crest of the hill just in time for the leader of the expedition to point downwards. The sight truly made his ventilation fans still. On the other side of the crest the hill sloped down gently into a plain, no, a plateau surrounded by tall sharp hills and mountains. There in the very middle of the plateau was a city, a ruin yes, but one that made it very easy to imagine the beauty of the place as it has once been. 

Broken towers rose tall, spindly seeming broken bridges showing how they had once been connected. Platforms with no railings at the very tops of the towers. And below, were interconnected domes, some partially collapsed, and some seemingly still whole. 

The plateau itself a riot of colored crystals, crysgrass and moving dots denoting a rich, diverse creature life. 

In short it was the most fantastic thing Optronix had ever seen, more fantastical than the images he had been shown had promised. 

Kaon, the lost city of the ancients. Or at least that was what the archaeologists hoped, what they wanted to prove. Why he was here, a timid young archivist, one of the few young mechs to know all the old Cybertronian dialects, lost or not. The only one who had agreed to take the long journey into Cybertron’s wilderness to a ruin city as an onsite translator. 

Needed because they had found the one impossible thing in the ruins. The one thing that could truly prove this to be Kaon. 

The library of the lost star. 

Impossible, hearsay, fabled, a myth. A library claimed to be founded by the very first Cybertronians, the thirteen, containing all their knowledge, the truth of Primus himself and his twin Unicron. Life and death. Optronix did not truly care if it was the library of the lost star, it was a library and it was old, older than old, and intact. He had not been lured by the myth, but by the chance to touch things older than anything in Iacon’s archives. The chance to be the first at something... to use his knowledge. 

To be useful. It was all he had ever wanted. 

“Come on, let us get down there, I am sure they have hot energon ready for our arrival!” the cheerful yell made everyone shoulder their packs once more, the trek continuing with a little more bounce in everyone’s pedesteps and eager chatter going up and down the line. Even Optronix could feel the giddy anticipation infecting him, infecting his tired struts and achy pedes, giving a boost of needed energy.

* * *

There was hot energon for them when they reached the base camp, but also a strange tension. The leader of their expedition was pulled aside as soon as they got into camp, the grim set faceplates of the camp leader a bad omen. 

Optronix sat down where he was directed, drank his energon and answered questions as best he could, some of them making him nervous. 

_Did you see any large predators, or traces from some?_

_Did you see any traces of fire, rust slides, or rock falls?_

Many questions, most of which he did not know how to answer. And his own tentative requests to know what was going on were dismissed with a flick of blunt fingers and ‘wait till later, there will be a camp wide briefing’. 

Before he could get truly scared, the science team descended on him and carried him off to his temporary domain. The square, orange prefab units looked ugly and inelegant on the backdrop of the ancient city, but it was a secure place to work. Soon enough he was buried in photos of writing and examples of ancient datapads that had been found all over the city and in the library. 

It was more than enough to push his worry to the back of his processor, especially when he excitedly realized that he did understand a bit of the writing. It was hard to read, slow and somewhat confusing, but it was familiar... the root of the most ancient dialect of Cybertronian still known now, or at least part of the root. It was so exciting that he almost forgot about the briefing. 

Perceptor, the flora specialist, came and dragged him out and they met up with Skyfire, one of the fauna specialists, on their way to the gathering. They sat down and waited for the briefing to begin, chattering a little bit about Optronix theories. It was clear, however, that both the scientists were uneasy, and that made him uneasy all over again.

The expedition leader, Dai Atlas, stepped up to speak and the crowed of scientists, guards, and support staff. “Welcome to the new additions to the team, we are especially excited to finally have a linguistic expert among us,” he gestured towards Optronix, who fought off the urge to duck. 

Luckily the large mech turned right into much more serious topics. 

“As you all know by now, Beachcomber and his two guards disappeared last orn, seemingly without a trace. They did not even manage to get a comm signal through to the camp. Before you panic over that, remember that the ore concentration in the ground makes comms next to useless in certain areas and that we have not yet managed to fully map these ‘dark zones’. Soundwave and Blaster are still working on a system for predicting them,” the large mech gestured to a blue and a red mech who acknowledged with a wave.

“We have had search parties out since they did not call in as per schedule, but so far nothing have been found, not even clues to a natural... end. We have asked the new team if they saw anything when coming here, but there were no traces of any rock falls or rust slides that might have caused Beachcomber to go off his planned route. That is all there is to it, I hope it will still the rumor mill, for now we will work as we have done this orn, send out guards to search the route they were supposed to take. Until any evidence shows up, one way or another, the guards will be doubled on any team going out, which will mean that some of you will have to wait longer,” mutter rose and Dai Atlas held up his hands for silence again. 

“A needed precaution, gentle mechs, now, we have canceled any of the longer trips and some trips can be combined, talk to the leaders of your field teams and see if you can be put to use on some of the expeditions that will be sent out, or if you can be of use in some of the cleared sections of the city. That is all.” The gathering dissolved into smaller groups, some walking purposely to talk with the group around Dai Atlas. Optronix listened a little forlornly as Perceptor and Skyfire began discussing what things they would have to rearrange in their schedules.

How was this going to impact his studies here, he had been looking forward to going to see the library, to see the city. Would that be postponed now? Indefinitely? 

“Hey, Optronix?” Skyfire’s hand was huge, engulfing most of his right shoulder and arm in what was probably supposed to be a friendly touch, “you don’t have to worry about your part, the library is in the secured part of the city, with such an important find... it was done immediately upon discovery. We’ve only been waiting on you to begin detailed exploration and cataloging,” the shuttle nodded and petted him gently, still nearly making him lose his footing. “Don’t worry, you will be going there when dawn breaks on the new light cycle!”

* * *

After seeing the sprawling, ruined city, Optronix had really thought he had gotten his fill of fantastic. That he would be... yes, at least slightly jaded to any other wonders there might to set optics on. 

He could hardly have been more wrong. Every street, domed streets!, they went down were lined with sculpted murals, faint traces of paint showing that they had once been brightly colored. Mythical creatures walked among normal mechs on them, were even more common than normal mechs. Minotaurs, Nagas, Harpys flew the skies along with giant radiocondors and winged centaurs. He saw depictions of shifter transformers, those that had no vehicle mode but rather transformed into creatures.

Many other creatures, mechs, of myths were there, it made him regret that he had never studied the old religions, and wish he had the courage to ask someone in his party what they were. A curious creature had the torso of a mech but the lower chassis of some sort of cloven peded creature, small horns curling from their helmets. Another seemed to be a giant winged electorlizard like being, clearly both were intelligent and not actual creature ‘creatures’, for they were depicted doing everyorn things, shopping, reading... taking flight in the case of the last being. 

That was all the murals depicted, everyorn things. Things every mech in Iacon would be doing, every orn, every vorn... only this was fantastic, the variety of beings in the imagined streets... and then they reached the library and he stopped being able to process. 

The great domes had kept the buildings under it surprisingly intact for all their age. This particular one was very well kept, build to last, clearly. Slender towers reached for the curve of the ceiling, seemingly spindly for all that he knew it was simply the size of it all that made them seem that way. The main entrance took his expectations and elevated over them as easily as if he had been a child imagining the golden doors into the academy. 

Great grey doors were held up by a pair of enormous status, the flying electrolizards again, and the doors themselves were made to look like giant data pads... complete with words carved upon their screens. 

He had studied those very words the moment he arrived in his temporary office, though there had been no images of the doors in their entirety. 

‘Ye who enter, do so to turn knowledge into wisdom’ was on the right side door, on the left side it read ‘Ye who seek knowledge , let it be tool not master.’ It had taken him a long time to translate it, and he was not entirely sure he had it right. 

The left hand door was cracked open but a fraction, and yet the party could enter without forming a single line, that was the scale of the building. And oh... oh the inside! He just stood there, trying to take it all in, the size, the sheer amount of knowledge that must be there for the taking...

“Hmm, I guess this is kinda your types’ kinda wet flux, huh?” one of the guard’s slapped his shoulder, making him stagger from both force and surprise. Optronix flushed hot, but at least the spell was broken and he managed to begin walking again. He would not call it his ‘type of wet flux’, but it certainly was the material for a flux... this library was unlike any he had ever seen. 

The great archives of Iacon could have been in one of these towers alone! and it was not that the memory banks or the many, many shelves held cumbersome datapads. In many ways all of these items looked more advanced than the ones he was used to work with. Maybe this really was the fabled library of the lost star? 

Whether or not it was, he had more incentive than ever to start on his work, it fairly itched to get his hands on the knowledge hidden here. 

Of course it was not all that easy, but he was allowed to stay at the small camp made inside the library, recharge there and so on. It was a little lonely compared to the main base camp, but it was not something he was not used to in the archives. And it was exciting!

Handling old datapads, trying to make sense of what was on them... even trying to find out what the words carved on the shelvings meant. Directions as to what one would find on them? some sort of index system? In the first orn he identified three separate dialects on the pads that were taken from different, well documented, places in the library. On the second orn he managed to translate the numbers of the shelving, confirming that it was some form of index system. From that he could guess on what they might call a pad that had to do with said system and they could begin searching for such.

For he refused to work on anything else, they would need to know what the system was to be able to work on what was really important. Or he might just end up trying to translate sparkling stories, or fiction about breeding bonddrones. All very interesting, but not useful in the area of telling them about the city. 

It was somewhat frustrating as the search dragged out. There seemed to be no central place for someone to go, no way to gain access to the humming data storage banks. and yet no damage to anything either... dust yes, but... Optronix was a little bit uneasy. He knew nothing about how age showed in a ruin such as this, but if this place had been abandoned for mega vorn, or even eons, should there not be more damage? more dust... something that was broken down or just... just not working anymore? 

Could it truly be that the creators of this had made it all so well that it would last forever without someone to take care of it?

Optronix had his doubts, but he did not dare voice it to the archaeologists, who probably already knew... and most certainly knew better what to expect from ancient ruins than he did. He could not help poke around though, and as the orn went by his curiosity often lead him to part from his guards more than he probably should. But since nothing had happened since the disappearance of Beachcomber and the two guards, Frostlance and Brightsword, well... security got lax, relaxed at least.

* * *

“Don’t get too far off!” Aquablast called after him, the deep voice echoing the bemusement everyone seemed to hold for Optronix and his assignment. It was not that they thought him misplaced, but usually his kind was not out with an explorer group like this. Of course he himself was bemused at this, but the work was enjoyable and... oh, the exploration was so much more fun than he had thought it would be!

“Yes, sir,” calling back he turned a corner, moving deeper into the ground section of the central library tower. The entire library was massive, many sections, many towers... it seemed to have been designed that way, but the archaeologists assured him that the different towers had been added over a long period of time as the need for more space rose up. It seemed... so impossible? The Iacon archive was a jumble of different styles, no one seemed to have been able to agree on keeping the new additions to the same style as the main complex. But this library? It was all the same, so processor blowingly beautiful that it had to have been built all at once... even if it was not. 

Huffing, he ran a finger over the shelving he was moving past, watching the dust as it fluffed and drifted on the air currents they had let in with them. No one seemed to know why the city had been left, no one seemed to know _anything_! And they were looking to him to find out, he was working on the data pads that had been found lying out on study tables or some of the few that had been found on the floor. But it was difficult work and until now none of them seemed to be about the city itself. 

There were many references to ‘others’, but sometimes it seemed to be someone inside the city and sometimes someone outside it. There was no real pattern that he could follow, leading him to believe he was still missing some key part for his translation matrix. 

Deep in thought, he did not notice that the dust on the floor was thinning, did not hear the low sounds of something giving with each of his pedesteps. When he did react to a cracking sound, turning half way to see what might be making it, it was too late. The floor plating suddenly disappeared under him and he fell.

* * *

“Uh...” his chassis hurt, Optronix was reluctant to move and instead onlined his optics. They met a wall of unexpected darkness and he sat up, laboriously, to see if he could figure out where he was. It was certainly not the small medic’s office in the small library camp, nor the med bay of the base camp. Neither would be dark and dusty like this place. 

It took his optics a while to recognize that there was a light source, of a sort. Some sort of crystal moss that grew on the walls and ceiling was giving off the faintest of glows, almost overpowered by his own optics glow. 

He remembered falling, there should be a hole in the ceiling above him, but there was not. After a moment he got up and staggered a little one way down the corridor, and then turned to walk the other way. Then he paused, uncertain if he should continue walking, what direction to take... 

There should have been a hole in the ceiling! He had fallen down here and... and... 

He looked at the flooring and swallowed hard. There in the dust were traces of something being dragged, and he was right now standing with his right pede partially obscuring a much larger pede print. Oddly rounded with two distinct prongs on what had to be the front part. 

Someone... something had dragged him here? But that was... impossible! Improbable certainly, there were no mechs in the library apart from the expedition. But of course, his cooling fans hitched, he was not _in_ the library now. He was somewhere under it... Pit, he could be anywhere under the ruined city by now, who knew where he had been dragged to, or for what purpose. Was this what had happened to Beachcomber?

A few calming ventilations later, he moved forward till he found the place he had been left. Then he moved back down the tracks his chassis had left alongside the huge pede prints. He tried hard not to think about the size of the creature that had dragged him this far. All that mattered now was that he found his way back to the hole he had fallen through. Then he could call on the guards and... yes, then they would figure out what to do. 

Mere breem after starting to trek back, he heard something from in front of him. A deep growl, and the heavy sound of steps. He turned around and ran, first time he bounced off a corner he slowed down, but panic was still fueling him... making him run from whatever was coming down the corridor behind him. He did not even know when he parted from the dragging tracks and entered an entirely different corridor. Or when he started walking down one that had no dust to leave prints in.

When he did stop, did notice, he had already turned several corner and corridor divides. 

“Primus...” it was nothing but a whimper, barely leaving his vocalizer at all. His chassis still ached, his processor swam and his tank was hopelessly near empty. He had never been build for this, Optronix knew it. Being an explorer was glamorous and exciting, but he should have just stayed in the safe halls of Iacon’s archives. 

His thoughts were broken but the sound of relentless heavy pede steps and he forced himself to walk on. Or at least his fear forced him, but there was less of the glowing moss here and the darkness was as oppressive as the low fuel warnings that began popping up... as relentless as the gaining pedefalls and heavy venting. 

Coming to another split off corridor, he looked behind and saw red tinged shadows where there should not be light enough for shadows to be cast. Irrationally he started running again and when he bounced off a wall the second time he knocked himself out.

* * *

“Hmm...” Megatron looked upon the sprawled out chassis of the little, tiny really, mech from the world above. By now he was so dirty it was almost impossible to see his colors, but at least he was now in a part of the labyrinth where the ceiling was high enough that Megatron could carry him. Picking the small mech up, he studiously ignored how appealing the slender frame was, and especially how vulnerable and open he looked. 

The last thing he needed was to feel protective of an intruder. He snorted to himself, well aware that these above world mechs were not here to intrude, they were there to learn. That was something the Kaonites could admire, but... 

Yes, but. Kaon had to remain hidden and safe, they could not afford the people living on Cybertron’s surface discovering the vast network of cities called the deep web. Once there had been only one city, Kaon, but eventually it had spread out. 

In that sense this mech was an intruder, one that now had to stay. 

Just like the ones that Blitzwing and his team had caught near one of the cave entrances to the labyrinth. It was still being discussed if it had been necessary to take them into the city, or if it would have been enough to leave them in the labyrinth for a while before helping them out again. Personally he would have taken them too, these mechs were not the normal ones that would sometimes stumble into one of the labyrinths build to protect the web world. These people were scientists, explorers... they questioned things, poked at things. They would have caught on to being lead back out. 

The mech in his arms stirred, mumbled something and turned a little to nuzzle into his chest plating, and Megatron found his cooling fans stalling out. Far too adorable for his own good, tiny like a youngling but fully formed... not gangly and youthfully rounded. He had no wings, no feather plating, no horns, no tail. In Kaon and all the other cities of the web world, his kin was nearly a myth. Sometimes a throw back would be sparked, pretty delicate little things that were the cause of many an altercation, though seldom through their own will. 

But even such throwbacks sported small horns, or a tail... or feather plating or scale plating on their sensor panels. Proof that they were of Kaon’s mixed coding breeds. This one was smooth all over, his plating fitting together with no overlapping... no horns, not even sensor panels. His alt mode was not a beast, it was a replica of a machine of some kind. His chest plates sported glass! Glass... so frail and pretty.

His scent was different too, Megatron had only met two throw backs in his life but they had scented like their creators. Harpy for one and Minotaur for the other. The mech in his arm had a unique signature, a different richness that could not be slotted into any type of scent he knew. Of course he also smelled of dirty, dust, and small dead creatures... not to mention the heavy metallic dusty scent of the great library. 

Still... he had to treat this one as any intruder would be treated until some place was found for them in the city of Kaon. This was the first time he had his hands on a mech from above ground, and in all honesty he did not want to treat him as an intruder... he had been so frightened, and was so terribly delicate. 

Arriving at the Nexus camber, the guard room, he glared balefully at the cuffs he was to put the small mech in. Much too small for any of his kin, he had never thought to have to use them... now it seemed cruel. The little one had run from him, panic enriching his scent, making it bitter and strong. Fear had made him run blindly twice... the poor little thing. 

It would be little better when he woke up, but rules were rules. He made sure that there was no lasting damage to the helm before he put him into the cuffs. To his dismay, he found that the little mech could not even reach the floor with his pedes. He looked scarily lifeless all covered in dust, helm lolling back on his slim little neck... 

He also looked incredibly hot, but Megatron pushed that realization back as well as he could. Then he fetched a bucket of warm cleanser and began to gently wipe the dust, dirt, and debris off of plating that proved to be colored in brilliant blue, red, and silvery white. Chrome accents lined his vent grills and the glass was actually see though. 

It was an open invitation to be taken. 

Carefully cleaning the delicate facial plates, he lingered a little too long at the pouty dermas... it looked like the little one had just come from a passionate bout of kissing, flexible dermal mesh plates swollen from stimulation and increased energon flow. Made a mech wonder how he would look when he had actually been kissed and nibbled on. 

Of course that was about the time when the little thing onlined and screamed. My, could he scream, but even with him screaming himself raw Megatron had to admit that it was a very pleasant voice. Putting his hand over the mouth, whole lower part of the pale blue face plates actually, he muffled the scream to a more bearable sound and tried smiling. 

“ **Be calm, mechling** , **no one will hurt you** ,” the big blue optics got impossibly bigger, but at least the screams turned into something a lot softer. Whimpers, it made his spark contract. He could very well imagine how he must look to the mech, curved horns with sharp tips adorning his helm, deep red optics... his fanged dentals. The mech had not even seen his tail or his big round, cloven pedes yet. 

He was as pure minotaur as they came, which was by now not much, even he did not know from what part of his line his fangs came from, but neither his carrier nor his creator had them. His red optics were not minotaur either, they were green mostly, his likely came from the harpy that hid a few generations back. 

He must truly seem a monster to someone used to others almost as small and delicate as his unwilling guest was. Not to mention that all the intruders seemed to have one or another variation on blue optics. Blue green, blue grey, blue black... blue, blue, blue. Exotic, not even throw backs sported blue optics usually, mostly that was a dragon kin trait... or above grounders. 

“ **Shh**... **I apologize for the restraints** ,” it was all he could do, apologize- try and calm him down. The ventings came so fast, his plating was hot... and he should not be touching him! Taking his hands back Megatron put the cloth down and backed up a little. Blue optics darted down, up, down and up again. It was clear that what they were scanning did not reassure his captive guest. 

“ **I am a minotaur** , **little above grounder** , **one of the guardians of the labyrinth** ,” he paused, the optics were back on his faceplates, paler than before, still so wide. 

“ **L** - **labyrinth**?” the word was oddly accented and pronounced horribly, but the voice... he swallowed and took another step back, not wishing the smaller mech to notice the change in his plating temperature and wishing to hide his scent as long as he could. 

“ **Yes** , **I am a guardian of the labyrinth** ,” he nodded, but saw no understanding in the blue optics. 

“ **Guardian of the labyrinth** , **protector of Kaon**?” he tried again. 

“ **Kaon**!” he winced at the mangling this time, the voice was as sweet as ever but Triad! Who had taught this one to speak? 

“ **Kaon**... **Ka** - **On** ,” the delicate little optical ridges drew together in a frown, and he got the feeling that the helmet would have been tilted inquiringly if the small mech was not dangling from cuffs well above the floor. 

“ **Ka** - **On**? **Labyrinth**?” realization hit painfully hard, and he felt like banging his helmet against the nearest wall. The report had said that the other strangers could not talk with anyone! Convenient thing to forget, he frowned and the small mech jerked, whimpering with fear. 

“ **Shh** , **shh** , **little one** , **no harm** , **just me being stupid** ,” he smoothed his face plates again, smiling, but keeping his dermas together. No need to scare the thing further, if he could help it.

It did not seem to help all that much, the little above grounder was shivering. And gnawing on his lower derma. Triad... 

Turning his back on the little thing he ignored the sharp intake of air the sight of his tail, and maybe his pedes, brought on. He collected a mug of hot energon from the pot on the heating unit and then returned to his captive with it. Making a show out of drinking some, and dripping a little onto the floor so the above grounder could see it was simply energon, he held the oversized mug to the pouty, and now slightly swollen, lower derma. 

Of course he misjudged how much he could tilt it, how much the little one could swallow. Cursing himself, he fumbled with the cleaning cloth, forcefully suppressing his libido’s suggestion that he just licked the escaped energon off his coughing captive. 

“ **There** , **I am sorry** ,” he offered the mug again but was refused. He could not really blame him... poor thing’s arms must be killing him by now. At least this one did not look like he was build to withstand physical extremes for long periods of times. He could be wrong, the small frame was... it was just so small! 

“ **Megatron**! **You called for a re** ~ **whoa** , **what is that**?” a yelp was all that was left of a swallowed scream, and Megatron again found himself unable to blame the small above grounder. While he saw nothing scary in the golden opticked naga, actually he was quite attractive with his smooth looking blue scale plating and ready smile, it would not be so for someone seeing the mech for the first time. One who had never seen a naga before. 

“ **A mech from the above world** , **he fell into one of the traps**... **They are getting close to the main entrance** ,” of course that was a given, they had hoped that the mechs would not go there. That by some miracle... but Primus had other plans, new CNA to the city. Unicron apparently agreed with his mate, and the old one rarely took hand of his creations in the matter of their creations. 

“ **I need to bring him down** , **Toxin** ,” the naga visibly held back what would undoubtedly have been some very... pointed comments. Despite his bubbling personality he knew as well as any guardian what needed to be done with intruders. 

“ **I’ll take over the watch** ,” the other’s hood flared out, prompting another strangled sound from the dangling captive. Megatron winced internally and waved a hand at Toxin to tone it down. 

“ **I blocked the tunnel with the flood doors on both ends** , **and erased any traces of both this one and myself** ,” but they would still know that something had happened this time, something not quite normal. 

“ **Go** , **I’ll take a look and bring in more guardians if need be** ,” he did not add what they both knew, it was about time the entire expedition disappeared. You just did not argue with the gods.

* * *

Optronix was scared stiff and his arms hurt, everything seemed to go far too fast around him. The mech... the monster. He honestly did not know anymore! His hands were still cuffed together, lying in his lap as he was carried though confusing corridors. 

The monster mech kept talking to him, in a tone that was obviously an attempt at soothing him, but he found it aggravating. It was like the mech was speaking a cybertronian dialect he had known once and now forgotten, the words, their meaning, hovered just beyond his understanding. His fear prevented him from focusing on the problem entirely. 

Suddenly the big monster mech stopped and Optronix focused on what was going on again, hoping to find some sort of meaning in the insane situation. Instead he saw more monsters. Some he could recognize from myths, some he had no idea what they were. 

There were what looked to be other nagas, but one of them sported feather plating and huge wings on his back. Another minotaur, like the monster mech carrying him, only this one had green optics and did not have fangs. There was also a relatively small but incredibly stocky and wide shouldered mech that could not be anything other than a dwarf. No other kind of mythic mech had optics like fire opals... and there were certainly no non-mythical mechs with optics like that!

They talked and then the stocky mech disappeared into another room? A pair of doors opened in what Optronix would have sworn were a bare wall only a second before. Sliding open they revealed a decently sized smooth chamber with mirrors on the walls. ‘His’ monster carried him inside and the doors slid shut again. 

Looking around nervously he saw nothing but the cream metal walls and the mirrors that showed him all of the strong grey and red plating of the Minotaur. 

A minotaur! 

Primus, he was going out of his processor... he was lying somewhere with a serious helm injury and this was the result. A nightflux-ish fever dream about monsters and myths, triggered by the strange everyorn depicting murals that were all... over... 

Oh... 

Nagas, Centaurs, Minotaurs, Furies, Harpies... They had all been there on the murals. In fact the rare ones had been like him, normal with no wings, no horns, no hoof pedes and plating that were just that and nothing more. What if it was that way because the city had been like that? 

No, that was just a silly thought... just fancy and the fantasy of a sparkling. He had long out grown such things, this mech was not a minotaur, the others had not been... no, just no. 

The doors opened and he looked up, cooling fans stalling and stuttering as shock crawled through his processor. The cave was bigger than his mind seemed able to grasp, there were spires that met the ceiling and went down, down down somewhere below where they stood. Thin spires reached up from the ground, or down from the ceiling. 

And in the empty air in between flew every winged mech of myth he knew. And a few he did not know, but what made him lose his grip on reality was the dragon that wheeled into sight around one of the ‘pillar’ towers. 

His processor barely registered the brilliant white scale plating patterned with red and blue, before he passed out. 

And so he missed the entire meeting where he was passed into the custody of the Guardian who had found him. Missed the collar that was put around his neck to ensure he would not escape... the upload that would help him understand their older than old dialect.

Missed everything about the new future he was being given under old, old laws.

* * *

Megatron had to admit that this was not his favorite thing. It was the stated law that whoever found an above worlder was given custody of said above worlder until such a time as the mech could function freely in their world. It happened rarely, and the law had worked well for them when it did happen. But he happened to like the solitude of his work shifts in the Labyrinth... 

Now he had no solitude and little to distract him from the piece of walking interface he lived with. The mech was not really taken with him, skittish and unhappy. It was less than appropriate to drool over him every time he... Well, all the time really. He had pointed out his attraction even while the little mech was being fitted with his collar and the temporary changes to his paint that would tell everyone that he was not a throw back but an above grounder. 

As if anyone needed a reminder. 

He had not needed one since the small thing woke up, saw him again and nearly screamed his vocalizer to ruin. Neither of them had gotten much recharge that orn, the tiny above grounder wedged into a corner in his berth room and him trying to coax him out with everything from games to fuel and treats. He had felt like a villain... 

No one here was used to such a level of fear. Everything was working against the grain, Optonix had been four orn about giving his name up. Even with the uploads’ help, his accent was atrocious and it was clear that he did not understand as much as the medics had hoped he might. Add to that it was almost impossible to get him to leave the apartment. 

The little mech had spent long joor just staring out the window at the fliers of the city. In the beginning he tried to hide if one came too close, but he quickly stopped that. Thank Primus for small favors. 

First time he had managed to urge him down, hoping to get him to go with him to the market, the little thing had taken one look out the door and bolted right back up to huddle outside the locked apartment door. Megatron had let him in and let him be, going alone to the market. 

Later attempts had gone better, but Megatron could find little solace in this. Like now... the little mech had approached a booth that sold wax candy, curiously tip pedding to look at the items for sale. Several mecha around were looking at him with barely concealed hunger. It was not so much that they wanted the little one too, it was that he knew he looked precisely like them! 

He would like nothing better than show the little mech what he could do if he would just stop skittering away from even a friendly pat on a frail little shoulder. It was an unhealthy obsession, and it was driving him mad. 

Living with him, trying to win his trust and talk to him about all the mundane things happening in the city. What places he might be able to go, what he would see there... what jobs he might hold. All the while wanting to kneel down before him and worship his smooth, little chassis with his glossa, his fingers... 

“Can we try some of these?”” he winced a little at the accent but nodded complacently enough, not paying much attention to what was chosen but simply handing over the payment to the owner of the booth when asked for it. He would like to go home now, at least there he would not be taunted by the sway of narrow hips and the sight of a perfect pert aft. 

Not as much as out here at least.

“Do you wish to see more this orn,” he asked politely, and almost huffed with relief when Optronix shook his helmet and willingly set course for home. His ordeal was over for this orn at least, only a few breem of that aft and then he could watch the news... or something else as little interface related as possible. 

As they passed through the marketplace he noticed how the little mech drifted closer to some of the booths that sold mesh fabric. He had noticed that tendency before, he had even asked about it and had gotten a shy, and somewhat afraid, mumble back consisting of ‘we don’t use stuff like that’. With ‘that’ he apparently meant the colorful swaths of fabric that was skillfully woven, as well as what they were use for. 

Pillows had made him so adorably confused. Loin cloths had made him stare in wordless confusion and capes had made him gape. His world seemed like a sadly colorless place, with little imagination... probably uncharitable but really? No clothing of any kind, no jewelry, and no pillows?

Watching him drift again, Megatron decided to do something about it, why not? He was supposed to help him fit in, everyone wore some sort of jewelry and clothing here. 

“Come,” he spared a moment to feel relief that the small above grounder no longer jerked and squeaked when he touched him, as he took him by the shoulder and steered him towards a weaver’s stand. 

“Where are we going?” Primus, one orn he would be able to enjoy that fantastically sexy voice... but that orn had yet to come with how the little one kept butchering their dialect. 

“To the weaver’s stand over here,” they were there almost already so Megatron had the mech inside the stand before any protests could be made. 

There were protests though, when he told the weaver what he was there for. But the drider mech was a very nice and helpful individual that did not seem to take the above grounder’s protest serious. Possibly because the flustered little mech was no longer trying to butcher their dialect but instead chattered on in his own. It was a very blocky language, but Megatron found that it did not matter as the voice made it more than bearable to listen to. It also explained why the little one had such trouble with their much more fluid dialect.

It only took about half a joor to equip the little above grounder with several pairs of colorful loin cloths, some discreet jewelry for his finials, arms and ankle joints and two capes. His little companion was still blabbering in something that seemed to be an equal mix of anger, pouting, glee, and nerves. Megatron was honestly too busy admiring the heavy brocade loin cloth as it swayed and gave him tantalizing glimpses of the long silvery white legs and the royal blue aft. The little ankle chains with their bells chimed merrily in time with the miffed stomping.

* * *

When he had been there a groon they brought the rest of the expedition down. He only knew because they asked Beachcomber, the two guards, and him to tell them there was nothing to fear. It had been one of the most harrowing experiences in Optronix’s life. His saving grace was that the other three mechs, who had all been there longer, said the same thing as he. Wore the strange clothing items, and jewelry, that every being that could wore here. 

Of course it also helped that the Guardians of the labyrinth was there in force, at least two ‘mythical’ beings for each of them. 

And a dragon.

The dragon was white and black and gold, his name was Yoketron, master of the guardians. He really was a relatively small dragon compared to the few dragons that Optronix had seen here, but he was a _dragon_ and it was him they were translating for. 

Explaining all the things they themselves had had to learn the hard way. That they would not be harmed, but would not be allowed to leave either. That they were now a part of the underground city of Kaon. The realm of the old ones. That they would have to build new lives here, that they had to forget their old world. 

It was daunting and painful. Dai Atlas spoke up, saying that they would be missed, that mechs would be sent for them all. The master of the Guardians told them that the plateau was sealed off now, showed them a recording of dragons and other large beings from the city toppling mountain tops and dwarves working on making it look natural. Like a quake of some sort had destroyed the high pass into the plateau. 

Even if someone came to look... it would be a very long time before anyone could come onto the plateau again. 

Yoketron told them that he was well aware that the time where the old ones could hide was running out, but for now they would still stay hidden. And with them, so would they. 

There was no choice. 

Each were given a guardian, or they were each given to a guardian, who would teach them how to live in the city of Kaon. Just like he had Megatron the minotaur and Beachcomber and his guards had a harpy and two burly nagas to guard them. 

It was all so neat and pat. Optronix felt more helpless and useless than ever when it was over, not that anyone had been angry at him or the others, but... what could he be used for here? He had been studying old languages, they spoke those here! Everyone knew them and he was superfluous... he did not even know the _right_ old language! 

Following Megatron to the other’s apartment was a subdued affair, at least the big mech seemed well aware that his charge needed a bit of time to think.

All in all he could not complain. He was nervous, even afraid, of the future but... Megatron took good care of him. The Minotaur mech was kind and generous, seemingly doing everything he possibly could to help him find his place here. It could have been so much worse.

* * *

"Optronix," the call was soft and he turned over on his berth, feeling a little annoyed. Since moving into his own apartment he had been struggling, not with life in general, but with feeling lonely. Megatron had solved his feeling of helplessness and being a burden by showing him the library... The library of the lost star. What was up above the labyrinth was a mere copy, a shadow of the real one. The staff had made room for him and he had made friends there.

An old, four armed naga named Hook parted his time between being the leader of the library and a medic. A perfectionist who claimed he was too old to be tied to only one job. He was a personality, and so were his nest brothers.

Nemesis, a young siren throwback, had become his instant friend despite his sinister name. He looked a lot like himself, but was a little bigger and bulkier. He of course had a fantastic voice, and was the mech who had pulled Optronix aside to finally tell him he was killing their dialect. He was also the one who had taught him how to speak it properly... Honestly, was still teaching him.

But despite all this, all these mechs and more... He often found himself missing the Minotaur. He could not help it. Spending half a vorn together was just not so easily forgotten. Having someone be so attentive, restrained and willing to just _help_...

" _Optronix_!" lifting his helmet he glared blearily at Nemesis, why... oh, right. They had hit the town last dark cycle. The siren said he should try and have fun and find a lover. It had not really succeeded, but he had gotten really high off his aft. Mostly he remembered drinking, dancing and... sobbing on someone's shoulder pauldron?

"What?” ugh, Primus, his voice sounded terribly raw and abused. 

“We’ve got work? You know, I recharged here so we could go straight to the late shift together?” Optronix threw a pillow in the siren’s smug face plate and more or less fell out of berth to get ready. At least it seemed that only his voice had paid the price of overcharge, for a simple fast shower put everything else to rights. 

Both on the way to the library and during work he noticed that Nemesis was often glancing at him, worry in his optics. Or maybe it was not worry but something else... concentration? Plotting? He ignored it as best he could, figuring that his friend would talk with him in time. 

“Could you take the front desk for a bit, Optronix? I need to go get this order,” Nemesis waved a data pad at him and Optronix waved him off, walking over to plunk himself down in the oversized desk chair. The late shift was never busy and most of it was spent on getting orders ready for the light cycle start. Not that dark and night cycle had the same meaning down here but... it had not been all that hard to adjust to. 

“Hello, Optronix,” he jumped and looked up at the owner of the deep voice, for a moment completely disoriented at being pulled from his musings. Damn high grade...

“Uh... hel-hello Megatron,” the Minotaur dwarfed him when he stood beside him, sitting down in a too big chair like this he made him feel like an errant sparkling. The mech always made him feel... young, small... useless, no, helpless not useless. He did not know how to act when with him, and did not dare act like he wanted to act. 

“I was told you would be here this dark cycle, it is a pleasure to see you again,” the minotaur looked around and then put a small box on the desk. “I... planned on giving you some time to feel at home here. It is a big change and it would have been unfair of me to simply act before you had your own home, your own friends and time to understand that your answer would have no impact on what life you could have here.” 

Optronix flickered his optics, then looked from the box to the minotaur and back again. What? giving him time to feel as if this place was home made sense, except he did not understand the rest of it and so the sense was limited to simply being sensible in the context of such a thing always being sensible. and polite. 

“Megatron?” it was the closest he could come to asking without sounding like a completely helpless moron. At least he felt that he was sounding like less of a moron like this, he could be wrong. 

The Minotaur smiled, a little bit sheepishly and took the lid off the box to lift out a piece of jewelry, an elaborately decorated wrist cuff. It was very beautiful, oxidized hammered silver with a pattern of onyx, rubies and a smokey grey gem he had seen before but did not know the name of. He recognized the cuff, many wore one or two of them, depending on... 

“You can say no, it is not binding even if you say yes... normally I should have courted you before offering this, but I find myself fearing that you might slip through my grasp if I do not show my intentions this clearly,” the smile was even more sheepish now, Megatron clearly nervous. Funny... he had never seen the Minotaur nervous before. The guardian was such a confident mech, at home anywhere, able to relax anywhere. 

Except apparently when asking an above grounder archivist for a relationship. An exclusive relationship... 

Well, Optronix could hardly blame him for that nervousness, it was a big step for anyone. Getting betrothed was no small matter, above ground or below, even if it here was called being ‘intended’. And his thoughts were running in circles, delaying his answer. 

Probably because he did not know _what_ to answer with. Oh, it was hard not to realize there was some... ‘status’ in being an above grounder here, just as there was status in being a throw back like Nemesis was. He huffed and reigned in his errant thoughts once again, reaching for the cuff with shaking hands. Megatron gave it up easily, not resisting even though he had had no answer yet. 

So... he had to decide on yes or no. His main concern was that Megatron was doing this simply because of the status, he had stated that he was moving fast because of that, after all. But he had also said he had been trying to give him time, that showed a concern for him, a wish for him to be happy, more than a wish for the status he would bring. The cuff was clearly his size... clearly made for him, not just on a whim, for someone, anyone, who might come along.

“If I say yes, what then?” the question slipped out through the many others crowding his vocalizer, unguarded and confused sounding. 

“Then we try, I court you and you decide if my suit is true... if it goes as I hope I will eventually present you with a mate to this,” the minotaur pointed to the cuff and smiled, “and I will have a pair of cuffs made for myself. Then we will bond, hopefully have many littles and a happy life... if that is acceptable to you of course.” 

“And thats all you want? A chance?” Optronix bit his lower derma, tilting his helmet to look up at the minotaur again. He had already decided, it was not a hard decision to make considering how much he had missed the minotaur the past... almost a vorn? Yes, almost a vorn. 

If he could miss him for so long even after having made friends and a life for himself, there had to be something there other than simple friendship. At least that was how he reasoned it. Turning the cuff over he closed it around his left wrist before smiling uncertainly at Megatron.

“About time! Now scoot, I’ll take the rest of the shift alone,” he almost jumped out of the chair when Nemesis spoke, wicked amusement in his pretty voice. 

“But~”

“No buts! Scoot, get, run along,” the throwback siren flapped his hands at them in a dismissive gesture, completely at odds with the happy grin that showed off his fangs. 

Optronix looked at him then up and Megatron’s grin and gave up. And why not? He had just gotten betrothed after all...

* * *

“Lio! No... Lio Convoy, come here!” Optronix called to the youngling who finally gave up his endeavor of climbing the stalagmite to touch the stalactite that met it about halfway from the cave ceiling. It was not like the tiny sparkling could have actually managed, despite his best effort he had not even managed to climb his own height, but of course he was trying since his big brother had shown that he could climb all the way up there. 

Galvatron, however, was a lot bigger and older than the three vorn old sparkling Lio Convoy... and the Minotaur youngling had inherited claws as well as fangs from somewhere in Megatron’s line. Little Lio had his Creator’s fangs, and might still show claws with his upgrade to younglinghood in about a vorn, but was otherwise a complete, if a little burly, copy of his carrier. A throw back. 

“You know he’ll keep trying,” Megatron’s voice was amused, thick warm arms closing around Optronix’s shoulders in a familiar way. Trustingly, he leaned back against the broad chest and huffed softly. 

“I know, it's a good thing he has not come into claws as early as Galvatron did,” leaning his head back he kissed the underside of Megatron’s jaw. The Minotaur rumbled, and he felt the sound though his plating just as much as he heard it.

“So you want to wait as long with our third?” Megatron was merely teasing but two could play that game. 

“That would be pointless,” Optronix lowered his helmet, snuggled in and kept his optics on their littlest.

“Oh?” the inquiry was almost nothing but a rumble.

“Since I am already carrying him, it would be pointless to try and wait, don~AH!” his sentence ended in a yelp when Megatron swept him off his pedes into his arms, spinning them both around with a bellow of joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: AU TFA, mangled myths, gender bending of mythological critters, fluff, cute, super mild slash hints
> 
> This was supposed to be a short, sweet little thing... >.>
> 
> Beta AKzeal and all the nice people of the Google doc session


	30. Celebrate Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Internal Monsters... 
> 
> Perhaps not a Celebration as such, but those really are the most dangerous monsters out there.

There were monsters, always monsters. 

The one that would rare its ugly head when he had to order someone to do something. It gnawed and wiggled in his tank, making him want to back up whatever he had in there. Kup had once told him it would get better, but it never did… 

Maybe that was why Sentinel and Elita hadn’t listened to him? 

Then there was the one that started to gnaw at his spark whenever he had to take up his axe and fight. It withered and clung, dimming the light of his spark, making it pulse so fast… like the heart of one of the small flying organics of Earth. 

Was that why he liked to fight so much? 

And the one that would tear at his spark whenever he made a mistake, costly or not. Tear and eat and claw, as if maybe it would all stop if he let it tear his soul apart. 

Would Elita forgive him if he did let it do its work? 

Black, dark and strangling, obvious in some manners, insidious and slow like weak acid in others. Crawling into his lines, clogging his cooling fans… When he stood before an opponent in battle that he knew he was no match for. When he saw one of those little, eight legged organics that were everywhere on this world. When someone pointed out a flaw in his plans, something he hadn’t thought about and which make him doubt everything he had put together. When Bumblebee, Prowl, Bulkhead or Ratchet put themselves in the line of fire and he wasn’t there to help… 

Was going against it really courage? 

But the most terrifying of all was the one that wormed inside his lines whenever Megatron was before him. Powerful, powerful enough to overcome the one that dimmed his spark, and this one… oh this one made his spark flare and burn. Made all of him burn, it was a snake of fire and it consumed him bit by bit.

Did the Decepticon know? 

All of these monsters fed off each other, insecurity fed guilt and both of them provided fuel for rage, fear prayed on them all, oozing into the cracks they left behind… in turn all three of them grew on the fear that lay under them. 

Desire? It was the worst of them, in Megatron he saw all he wanted to be as a leader, and all he hated about being a leader. He saw a powerful, confident warrior.

He wanted him, he wanted to be like him, rid of all the monsters…


End file.
